


Live to Serve

by emblem_oracle



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Forbidden Affair, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Panic Attacks, Political Marriages, Polyamory, Scandal, Servant AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblem_oracle/pseuds/emblem_oracle
Summary: Things were going great at Prompto’s new job as servant to the royal family.That was until he saw the prince kissing his two advisors and he was practically roped into trying to prevent a scandal.Servant!Prompto AU





	1. A Royal Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, new fic! Let’s do this!
> 
> Important note! While the war with Niflheim hasn’t happened in this fic, tensions are high between them and Lucis; suggesting war may just be on the brink.

When Prompto was young, his father (his adoptive one – not his birth) used to say that to try and change one's prospects as a baker's son was like asking royalty to pay off your mortgage. Next to impossible. Not even worth dreaming about. You'd be kissed by the pope first.

Prompto was never really close to his adoptive father but it was those words which echoed in his mind as the car steered through Insomnia's city gates. The city was huge; just like in all the newspaper clippings and photographs he'd saved over the years. The winding cobblestone paths which had shined so brightly in his dreams glittered now in the sun.

He found himself finally understanding why this was called the city of dreams. Why his father had laughed so much when he'd proclaimed that he'd work there, one day.

He was totally hitting above the belt. Wonderful. That helped with the nerves just great. 

"You're heading to the Citadel, right?" the driver asked, turning slightly in his seat to eye him. People rushed out in front of the car but the driver didn't so much as blink at the activity, probably used it.

Prompto doubted he'd ever get used to this.

"Yeah," Prompto said, smiling through the nerves. Smiling helped. Sometimes.

"Oh? Business with royalty, eh?"

"Hopefully," Prompto said. The driver raised a curious brow. "I have a job interview for a footman," he clarified.

Prompto was often met with raised brows when he mentioned that but the driver seemed genuinely confused instead of judgmental. Prompto relaxed a little into his seat. "A footman? Isn't that a fancy sort of waiter? You set tables, polish silver and all that junk?"

Prompto nodded. "Right. Thrilling, I know."

The driver laughed. "Fancy work, that. Well, best of luck to you, kid! It's good to dream big. I suppose you have the youth to be waiting after royalty for years to come, though not much young blood goes through the Citadel. Maybe the prince will take a shine to someone closer to his own age."

Prompto laughed with him. He usually wasn't the best at conversation but the driver made talking seem simple. "I'm just hoping I make it back out alive at this point," Prompto admitted.

"Eh, don't be so negative. Nobility can sense that stuff, y'know," the driver said.

Prompto nodded, taking a deep breath to ease frayed nerves. "Yeah, you're right. Gotta' try and think positive."

But by the six, was it hard to think positive when every person he'd ever told about this had laughed in his face. He must be insane for even dreaming, never mind actually applying for the position. He had no experience as a servant. He barely had experience as a baker.

But he had to at least try, even if he was sent away the moment he arrived on the doorstep.

After a short while, they arrived. The Citadel's gates were huge in their grandeur, probably worth more than everything he and his parents had ever owned put together. He self-consciously adjusted his collar.

"Well, kid, I wish you luck," the driver said as Prompto hopped out of his seat. Cars were prohibited within the main square unless they belonged to nobility. "Stand up straight, only talk when addressed… you get the gist. If you get the job, be sure to stop down at the Crowe's Nest. I'll buy you a drink… um…"

"Prompto," he extended his hand through the window and the man shook it. "Prompto Argentum."

The driver smiled. "Pleasure to meet you, Prompto. And good luck!"

* * *

 

"Prompto Argentum, correct?"

"Yeah," Prompto thumbed the hem of his jacket. He'd saved for years to buy it but he still felt underdressed. The man sat before him was so prim and proper; brown hair combed to perfection and glasses perfectly fit. Prompto used to wear glasses, but they were uncomfortable and didn't help much anyway.

The man was admittedly rather handsome but he kept that thought to himself.

The library was thick with the smell of parchment and ink and the cushioned chairs were made from red velvet. It felt odd to sit in one but not in a bad way.

So, this was a royal household. Fancy.

Scary.

"My name's Ignis Scientia, royal advisor to his highness," the man – Ignis - said.

"Royal advisor?" Prompto found himself asking before he could think to hold back. "I thought interviews were left to the butler… sir."

Was that the proper address for a royal advisor? He couldn't remember, and he was so nervous it was near impossible to think.

If he'd addressed Ignis wrong, though, he didn't show it. "Usually yes," he said. "However, my father once served as the butler here and I have a mind for the requirements of the position. Considering how the current butler is rather busy, his majesty chose to let me handle this interview."

"I see," Prompto said slowly. His hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists to try and stop them. He really needed this. If he didn't get it, back home to Duscae he'd go.

And he'd do anything to avoid that.

"I understand you are a baker's son," Ignis said, reading from his notes. "Twenty years old, from Duscae; one of the outer regions. You have little to no experience working as an official footman, correct?"

At least Ignis had the grace not to laugh. Prompto knew this was a stupid idea, childhood dreams be damned. "Yeah, that's right."

"You have, however, taken extensive courses in the craft. Correct?"

Most people paid no mind to that. Prompto nodded.

"I see," Ignis said. He shuffled some papers on the desk and Prompto almost jolted at the sound. He needed to calm down. "Might I ask why you wish to be a footman? Usually people only apply when they are older. Considering the restrictions of the job, you'd be at the Citadel almost exclusively with the exception of appointed leave."

Prompto considered answering honestly but it seemed too much in that moment.

"It was my childhood dream." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth. "I've wanted to work in Insomnia since I was a kid. Even with the job restrictions, it's still what I've always wanted."

"You seem passionate," Ignis mused thoughtfully. "Admirable, if nothing else." Ignis pushed the papers to the side and rested his hands in their place. Even his hands were primed to perfection, nails chiselled smooth and fingers long yet delicate.

"Thanks… sir." Prompto hoped he didn't hear his hesitation. He couldn't tell if this was going well or terribly, which only served to make him more nervous.

Then Ignis offered the briefest of smiles, a slight curve at the corners of his mouth. It remained for only a moment before falling away but it caused Prompto to sit a little prouder in his chair.

Ignis said, "I admit, I was quite happy with your application. You have little experience, but that's not uncommon with this type of position. My only true qualm is your age, yet, you seem passionate." Ignis hummed to himself and stared down at the desk for a moment, clearly deep in thought. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Prompto didn't hesitate this time. "Yes, I am." 

Ignis looked at him, Prompto looked back, and they stared at each other in silence for a moment. After what felt like an eternity, Ignis drew a page from the pile and a pen from his desk. "Very well, you've convinced me. When can you start?"

"…Sorry?" Prompto said, blinking slowly. Was he going mad because it almost sounded like…

"I said, 'When can you start?'" Ignis said again. He glanced up and stared him hard in the face. His gaze was surprisingly severe. "Have I confused you in some way? You look lost."

"Are you saying… I've got the job?" Prompto asked carefully. Dare he even hope.

Ignis nodded. "If you want it still, that is."

Prompto could have exploded in that moment. Was this even happening? He'd have screamed if he didn't know better. "Yes, I-… as soon as you need me to, sir."

"Then, tomorrow. Arrive at around seven am with your things and one of the other footmen will help you to get settled."

"Thank you," Prompto smiled and he felt like he was floating. "You won't regret it."

"I do hope not," Ignis said.

It took everything Prompto had not to skip down the hall.

* * *

 

"What's got you so smiley?" Noctis asked, later that afternoon. Dressed in his sweatpants and nothing more, the prince knelt down to look under the bed; finding no sign of his lost t-shirt. With a frown, he glanced back to Ignis. "Was that particularly good for you?"

If anyone saw Noct in such a state of undress they'd have a fit. Ignis and Gladio, though, were quite familiar with the sight. So familiar, in fact, there was no longer any awkwardness surrounding it.

Ignis adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. Gladio walked in from the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He always insisted on showering after sex. Probably to taunt them both with his chest.

"You two are always… good for me," Ignis said, trying to fight down the growing redness in his face. Gods, he was never going to get used to talking about this. "But no, that's not what I was smiling about."

Gladio nudged his arm. "Well, spill. You know I can't stand secrets, Iggy."

Noctis let out a low huff which drew both of their eyes. "Oh, damn," He lifted his formerly lost shirt and eyed the small tear in the side. Ignis had a vague memory of Gladio pulling it off a little quickly. "Think I could get away with walking back to my room without that being seen?"

"Absolutely not," Ignis reached into his drawer and threw him a collared shirt. "The prince must always be ready to receive company."

"Then I should go around naked," Noctis smirked, plucking the shirt from where it had landed against his chest. "Then I'd always be ready to ' _receive company.'_ "

Gladio snorted with a mumbled, "that was bad," while Ignis tried to bury himself in his collar.

_"Highness…"_

"Kidding! Jeez," Noctis yanked the dress shirt on, frowning at the collar. He was infamous for hating the style. There was a reason he wore t-shirts all the time. "But seriously, Iggy. What's up? It's rare for you to smile like that and it's creeping me out."

"How charming of you," Ignis said. "I was merely thinking back to this morning, with the new footman we hired. He was contagiously keen."

"Wow," Gladio smirked. "Thinking of other men while sleeping with us. Talk about charming."

"That's not what I meant," Ignis frowned. He suspected that Gladio knew that but he couldn't help defending himself. "He reminded me of my youth. It was quite nostalgic."

"We're hiring another footman?" Noctis asked. "Since when?"

"Since last month," Ignis sighed. "Honestly, highness, you should pay more attention during your father's councils." Noctis shrugged, uncaring.

Gladio crossed his arms. "So, we have yet another person who could catch us doing this. Great."

"One more shouldn't make much difference," Noctis said. "We are already dodging a ton of people anyway, including my old man. I'm sure we can avoid one more servant."

Ignis frowned. "True as that may be highness, more caution wouldn't hurt."

It really wouldn't do to be outed now, two years into their relationship. They had maintained their intimacy all this time, all while upholding utmost secrecy. After all, for the prince to be in an intimate relationship with not just anyone, but his royal advisors, would be quite the scandal. One that could ruin the prince's brittle reputation and their own as well.

"Yeah, yeah," Noctis waved his hand dismissively. "Well, I have a dinner with the wonderful duchess of Caelum," he pulled a face. "Pray for me."

"Hope you don't die of boredom," Gladio said.

"Remember to ask her about the trade routes," Ignis added.

After checking whether the coast was clear through the keyhole, Noctis slipped into the hall and out of sight, closing the door gently behind him.

Once he was out of earshot, Gladio said, "I doubt he intends to marry her then."

"Seems so," Ignis frowned. "He'll soon need to choose a wife. It's just how things are, I'm afraid."

Gladio scratched at his neck. "I know His Majesty's also looking into Iris and Luna as potentials. He asked my father and everything about Iris. He approved, of course, but I hope Noct doesn't wind up with her. It would feel damn weird."

"Why?" Ignis asked without really thinking.

Gladio raised a brow. "You really need to ask? Maybe because I'd have fucked my brother in law. Or maybe because me and Iris would have slept with the same man."

"Point taken," Ignis said, standing up from the bed.

Gladio began to pull on his pants. He had the sense to be careful taking off his own clothes, unlike with Noctis. "Dad's been getting insistent about me marrying lately too. I might need to choose someone sooner rather than later; he's starting to get suspicious. Maybe I could get away with marrying you, though I doubt mother would be best pleased," He huffed. "The joys of a secret affair."

"Which we were all well aware of when we agreed to do this," Ignis reminded him.

"Being aware doesn't mean it isn't shit."

There was silence for a few moments before Gladio leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek; his hair dampening Ignis's temple. "Though I suppose we'll make this work. Somehow."

Ignis hummed, "I hope so."

Ignis meant the words but he didn't believe the possibility. He supposed he'd just have to savour these moments while they lasted – before he and his partners were forced into marriages they did not want.

* * *

 

The next morning, Prompto arrived to find a mountain of a man peering down his nose at him and all his enthusiasm melted away. "So, you are the new footman?" the man - he introduced himself as Drautos – looked him up and down with a critical eye. "You're young."

"I've gotten that a lot recently," Prompto said weakly. He didn't think it so strange but the fact everyone kept pointing it out made him think.

Drautos hummed. They passed through the reception and climbed the stairs down to the servant's quarters. "As you can probably guess, I'm the butler around here, and am both your superior and your mentor. Address me as Sir Drautos or sir. Don't include me in mindless activities but don't hesitate to turn to me for help. I'm a teacher but not a friend. Understood?"

Prompto bit his lip. The man reminded him of his father which did nothing to settle his worries. "Yes, sir."

"Very good. I'm afraid you'll be sharing a room with Nyx Ulric, another of the footmen. He's the youngest before yourself so you should get along but don't let him drag you into trouble."

Prompto raised a brow. "A troublemaker?"

"Yes," Drautos said flatly. Something about the way he said it caused him to snort and he rushed to hide it behind his hand. The man looked big enough to crush him with one hand and Prompto really didn't want to try laughing at his face. Drautos continued, oblivious, "But he's of decent upbringing and is a good man. Be good to him and he'll return it."

They stopped in front of one of the doors. "The servant's dining room," Drautos explained. "You're prohibited from taking food to your room with the exception of illness. You'll eat through there the rest of the time."

They continued on. The servant's quarters were all light blue paint and white woodwork. It was more modern than expected and larger besides, but it held none of the grandeur of the upper floors. Though, that same grandeur didn't feel very… homely?

Prompto could adapt to this.

"The male servant's rooms," Drautos gestured to another door. "As you can perhaps gather, every servant shares a room with another. The females are kept elsewhere. Try not to sneak into their rooms late at night, or else you're in for a rude awakening."

"Don't worry," Prompto said, mostly to himself. "That's not a massive concern."

While Prompto certainly enjoyed swooning after pretty ladies, his fascination went beyond just them. He wouldn't dare to admit that though.

"Nyx," Druatos called outside one of the doors. "Your new colleague's here."

There was a scramble from within and finally the door flew open, revealing a man no taller than Prompto but definitely more built. He looked more like a soldier than a servant, with the sort of chiselled edge to his face that all soldiers seemed to bare.

Drautos gestured to him. "This is Prompto. Try not to kill him, will you? Be sure that he's settled and learns the ropes."

"Will do, captain," Nyx said and nodded his farewells. He even did that in military rest position. For a moment, Prompto questioned whether he'd joined a royal house or a royal army.

When Drautos vanished down the hall though, that all fell away, and Nyx offered a small smile which looked more like a smirk. "Good to meet you, Prompto. Here-" Nyx took his suitcase from his hand. "Come in."

"Thanks."

The room was small with only two single beds, a tv crammed in the corner and a wardrobe each but it was comfortable and clean. Minimalist. Prompto supposed once he got a few photos up on the walls he'd feel right at home."

"This is light," Nyx said as he dropped the bag onto the bed with a dull thud. "Did you pack anything?"

"Only some clothes," Prompto said, starting to feel self-conscious for not the first time since he got here. "And my camera."

"You own a camera?" Nyx asked. "Doesn't everyone just use their phones nowadays?"

"It's easier to take good photos with a proper camera," Prompto said, smiling. Photography was his pride and joy. His original dream had been to become a photographer, but the pay simply wasn't there. He added, rather deflatingly, "I'm afraid I'm not the best photographer, mind."

"I think I'll be the judge of that," Nyx said, moving back to his bed. "Show me some of your photos later."

"Really?" Prompto asked. It was rare people cared at all.

"Yeah. Only when you're all unpacked though."

Prompto decided he rather liked Nyx, despite how unexpected he was.

He met the other servants fleetingly and none of their names really stuck in the bombardment before breakfast arrangements began. The only people he did remember were Crowe – the cook - whom he remembered because Nyx specifically pointed her out as like a sister to him; Libertus, who was the only other footman besides themselves, and Aranea, the Housekeeper.

Prompto was excused from breakfast and lunch preparations to give him time to unpack and hang up some photos. He had ones of the old bakery, a couple of his pet chocobo ( _god, he missed her already)_ and a dismal old picture of himself with his adoptive father and mother. He wasn't smiling in the photo.

He changed his mind about putting that one up and placed it back in the case. Nyx complimented the display when he returned after the lunch rush and told him to take even more photos while he was with them.

"Shame to waste a good talent, right?" Nyx said.

Prompto began to like him a little more.

For the dinner preparations, though, he was expected to participate. They handed him his new uniform and he was immediately put to work polishing silver in the back room. The work was easy and a little tedious but one thought of life back home forced down all complaints.

"Not bad, newbie," Libertus said when he was done, lifting up one of the spoons he'd polished. "Better than Nyx when he first started."

"Harsh."

Drautos returned just before they were set to lay out the tables and the room calmed with his presence. It was quite amazing to see. "It's just the usual suspects tonight," he announced. "His highness requested no vegetables, as usual. His majesty requested he be given extra."

"Already on it, sir," Crowe said.

"Good. Prompto," Drautos turned to him. He tried to force his spine a little straighter. "You will be waiting on the family alongside the others. I know the King and Prince are both eager to meet their new employee. Try not to drop anything."

The kitchen laughed. Prompto nodded. "Yes, sir."

* * *

 

Going into this job, Prompto had certain expectations.

He expected he wouldn't get the job in the first place, for one, but beyond that he envisioned the royal facility, the nobility and what they would act like.

King Regis left little to the imagination. He was featured heavily in the news and gave constant speeches about current issues and the constant threat of Niflheim. Prompto knew he was a greying man; only forty but his hair made him look at least ten years older. Apparently, that was caused by the crystal but Prompto didn't really get how that worked.

Prince Noctis, on the other hand, was a total enigma. He was practically never seen in the news though he was mentioned often. Prompto had only seen one very old photograph of the prince when he was learning about the royal family at school. He'd been a child then, with black hair and shining blue eyes which looked like they had seen more than Prompto could ever comprehend.

It was said that the king wanted to keep Noctis mostly out of the limelight, so he might live somewhat normally until his ascension, and that was the reason for the few photographs

Beyond that, Prompto's worried mind envisioned a snob of a man who probably wrinkled his nose at commoners. His hair would be combed and oiled back with all the pretentiousness of a noble child and that would the biggest compliment Prompto could give him.

In truth, he dreaded meeting the prince.

That was until he actually saw the prince in question.

Prince Noctis was handsome in a delicate sort of way. His face wasn't chiselled like Nyx or Drautos. Rather, his face was smooth and rounded. His eyes maintained the same fire from his youth, but they weren't so cold as those old photos. With his wild hair and casual t-shirt, he looked surprisingly down-to-earth.

"You must be Prompto Argentum, our new footman," the king smiled from the head of the table, snapping his attention away. "Pleasure to meet you at last. I'm sorry this has been our first opportunity to talk but I've been rather busy lately."

The King seemed warmer than in the news too. That was a relief. "It's an honour, your majesty," Prompto bowed at the waist after placing the dish before the king. "Though apologies aren't necessary. I understand your work must be hard."

It felt strange to talk all proper but that was the way of things.

The king smiled. "That may be so but it's still bad manner. For that, I apologise."

Prompto bowed again before returning to get the other courses, though he could have sworn he heard the prince whisper something like "he's mute" as he passed. Prompto supposed he was talking about some noble.

"I see you conduct yourself with good manner," Ignis said upon his return. Severe though his glare may be, it calmed Prompto to see a familiar face. Especially a face now seared into his memory.

"Thank you, sir," Prompto said, nodding as he placed the dish down.

The prince smirked. "I can see why you hired him, Ignis. He's very by the book, just like you," the prince took a bite out of his cabbage, face contorting with disgust as he realised what he'd done.

So,  _that's_  why he requested no vegetables.

"Don't spit it out," Ignis said, sounding almost bored.

Noctis muttered a quiet, "Yes, mother," as he chewed through his food dismally.

Now he simply had to stand around until they finished. One thing this job wasn't was difficult. Nyx looked rather stern from the other side of the room and Libertus wasn't much better. He doubted he could engage them in a silent conversation. Prompto instead occupied himself with the dinner conversation.

Honestly, it wasn't much funner than just staring into space but it'd do.

"How was the duchess of Caelum?" The King asked after awhile, looking down the table at his son.

Noctis frowned. He almost looked like he was pouting which was hilarious to him. "I've had more entertainment from a pile of bag of dirt," he sighed. "No offence to her or anything."

"I think she'd be quite offended if she heard that," Regis mused lightly. "No proposal then?"

"No. No proposal," Noctis bit into his food thoughtfully. "Though I'm surprised you even suggested her in the first place. She's thirty years older than me with a clear agenda."

"You made your qualms with the others rather well known," Regis said. "I'm almost running out of choices."

Noctis glanced down at his plate and didn't comment for a while. Prompto thought maybe he wasn't going to. Then he muttered darkly, "Well, maybe if you let me ch-" when he suddenly cut off. Prompto could have sworn he saw the table cloth move.

"Sorry?"

Prompto stared at the man at the Prince's side; yet another mountain of a man with brunette hair. He was practically scowling at his plate.

Noctis sat a little taller in his seat, but the darkness had disappeared from his gaze and his tone. "It's nothing, dad… just forget it."

"Alright, then…"

But Prompto's gaze lingered on the man beside the prince, suspicions bubbling in his mind. Had he  _kicked_  the prince? Was he insane? Could he even do that? He presumed he was someone of high class but still, to harm the prince…

Prompto dismissed his thoughts with a shake of his head and let the matter rest.

After all, nobility worked on a whole other wavelength. Maybe it was better if he didn't pretend to understand their workings.

* * *

 

Later that night, after the plates were washed and silverware packed, Prompto was just about to head to bed when Drautos called him over.

"How was your first day?" he asked.

Prompto smiled. "It was great. Different from expected, but still good." And the royal family had given him plenty of surprise.

"Good. I hope you still feel that way by the end of the month."

Druatos dug into his jacket and removed a note. "King Regis asked for this to be delivered to Ignis. Would you do the honour? I have some things I need to check."

"Um…" Prompto bit his lip, not reaching for the paper yet. "I'm afraid I don't know where Ignis' room is." He'd only been there a day and Nyx hadn't exactly given him a tour around the Citadel.

Druatos seemed to expect that response. "Take the stairs up to the second floor and his room is the third on the right."

"Oh. Thanks."

Sounded easy enough.

* * *

 

"Why did you stop me?!" Noctis was absolutely fuming. Just when he'd been about to give his father a piece of his mind…. It was past time he heard how he felt about all those damned meetings with crude women who only wanted him for the crown. About how he was being forced into a marriage he didn't want, to a woman he no doubt wouldn't care for; away from the people he did.

It was stupid. All because some old law which said the King had to take a wife and nothing different.

He couldn't even play it solo, oh no, that was too easy. Damn it. He cursed the six.

"You were going to make a fool of yourself," Gladio answered easily, expression stern. "You've got to put aside what you want for the country. It's your duty. You're going to have to accept that."

Noctis would scream but princes were supposed to be the very image of composure. While he was far from composed, he was not a hysterical child either. It'd do.

"So, does what I want not hold any weight  _at all,"_ He wasn't angry at Gladio – not really – but he'd lost his chance to rant at his father and the words wouldn't stop spilling now. "I do a lot for this country and I accept that. What I don't understand is how me marrying some gold digger would help Insomnia, Lucis or anything."

Ignis, who had remained quiet through his heated words, chimed in. "The people expect a queen. Your mother was held rather dear and now the people want another queen to love. Besides that, a queen's supposed to help you with the burden of your rule."

"I can handle my burden just fine alone," Noctis huffed. "And I have you two. This country doesn't  _need_ a queen."

Gladio's eyebrows narrowed. "Maybe it needs one because that's the law. You need to deal with that."

"I  _am_  dealing with that! You say it like you have a wife all lined up," Noctis said as he sat heavily on the bed. Gladio crossed his arms. "Aren't I allowed to just be mad at it? Without you telling me that it's so wrong? I know I'm going to be married off regardless of my thoughts on the matter."

"I don't think that's quite true," Gladio said. Then he sighed, giving in. "Though I suppose you have a point."

Noctis flopped back onto the pillow with none of the grace of a prince and rested his head on Ignis's shoulder. His shoulder was surprisingly comfortable. All his ranting earned him a headache.

Ignis said, "We'll just have to make do with the time we have, highness."

Noctis lay there a moment before he hummed, the frown not leaving his face. He turned his head to lay a kiss on the base of Ignis's jaw. "I suppose we will," he ceded.

It was an oversight not to lock the door. An unintentional one, yes, but that didn't mean it wasn't a major fuck up on their parts.

Five minutes after that first kiss, just as clothes were about to start coming off; Gladio above him and Ignis nibbling at his neck, there was a voice from beyond the door, "Sir Scientia?" Noctis recognised it immediately as that of their new footman. Before Ignis could call him to stop, the wooden door slid open. Noctis only had time to look in horror at his partner's faces and push Gladio off before he was staring the blonde servant in the face.

The look on the servant's face revealed enough. His eyes had the wideness which only came from seeing something you weren't supposed to. He stared down at them and they stared straight back. "Oh," the servant mumbled under his breath. 

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this fic goes by the old English servant system which began to dissolve after WW1, here are some terms and clarifications to help with reading. 
> 
> Footman – A fancy sort of waiter in ways. Their work involved laying tables, polishing silver and answering the front door. They also worked as an escort for guests and attended to the male nobility (with the exception of the head of house). The job was infamous for it’s easy nature and high pay and, as such, was highly desirable. 
> 
> Butler – Drautos’s role. Generally in charge of the footmen and other male servants. 
> 
> Housekeeper – Aranea’s role. Head of the female servants. 
> 
> Count – Ignis’ noble status. Counts were the intermediate between the upper and lower classes of nobility. Can be raised into one through royal decree or sudden fortune. 
> 
> Duke – Gladio’s noble status. Just after the prince in the nobility hierarchy. Due to their strong bloodline and fortune, these are the prime pick to marry within the nobility.


	2. A Royal Scandal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this got a bit more attention than I thought it would. I'm glad you all seem to like the concept. 
> 
> On the matter of comments, I may not be able to reply to every comment I get. However, know that I read and appreciate every one.

When Drautos told him to deliver a message to Ignis, Prompto had expected a few things.

He'd expected that he'd get lost (which he did – though not for long). He'd expected Ignis to be awkward to talk to because dude, he may have been the one to employ him but he dressed like something out of Forbes magazine. He doubted they'd have much in common.

He'd expected Ignis' rooms to be lavish yet understated. He'd expected that the prince may also be there, though it was unlikely. He was prepared for a whole bunch of scenarios in the time it took him to reach Ignis' door.

In a way, all his expectations were accurate, but to say Prompto was in any way  _prepared_ for the sight which met him when he walked into Ignis' room was complete shit.

The prince… and his royal advisors... they were…

_Oh god._

_This. Was. Bad._

In his shock, he just stared at them lying there; so frozen he couldn't even drag his eyes away. They stared straight back.

It was way too late to pretend he hadn't seen. What was he supposed to do? Leave? Run?

He really wanted to run.

But his feet refused to move, as did his mouth. He tried to formulate words but it wouldn't respond. An "Oh" was all he could make himself say.

"Fuck," the prince cursed. The covers fell away from him, revealing a reddened neck, which just erased any potential defences Prompto may have had about him misreading the situation.

He couldn't believe this! The prince was having an affair – an illegal affair – and he'd just seen it and now… and now…

Prompto wasn't sure what was supposed to happen now, but he was sure it couldn't be  _good._

The big guy – the prince's shield (man, he couldn't think of his name) – was the first to move. He leaped up from the bed and strode across the room before Prompto could even process what he was doing. The shield wrapped his hand around his wrist and yanked him further in; closing the door behind them.

"You," the shield said, voice dangerously low. His face hovered mere centimetres away from his own and Prompto couldn't help gawking. He was so close, he could feel the heat of his breath.

"The new footman, huh. Prompto. You're supposed to wait for a reply before entering, kid," the shield's eye brows furrowed low. He didn't release his wrist.

And it was then that his shock evolved into full blown panic.

The guy could kill him in one blow. He wouldn't even need to put his full strength into it.

Prompto had heard stories about servants being killed by their masters to keep secrets from getting out. Secrets like this. Prompto hadn't put much thought into them before but the way this shield was glaring at him…

Were they going to kill him? He doubted it, but…

"I-I-… I'm so sorry," he stuttered, not knowing what else to say. "I didn't mean to walk into… into  _that."_

"Damn well you didn't!" the man growled. Prompto squeaked and tried to pull away but the man's grip was firm.

For the first time in his life, Prompto actually  _wanted_  to be back home. It may have been a miserable life but it was better than no life at all.

"Let go!" Prompto said, voice high and pitched.

It was getting harder to breathe right. Harder to ignore the buzzing in his head. The shield's hand might as well have been wrapped around his neck. Desperate, he yanked his arm hard. The shield's grip almost gave but he managed to wrestle him steady.

"Knock it off, kid!" the shield fumed, grabbing his free wrist. Dots began to float around his vision. He needed air! He needed—

"Gladio," Ignis said to the man, voice chillingly calm. He took a step towards them. Prompto yanked again. "Leave him alone. You're scaring him."

Prompto fell very still.

The man – Gladio – and Ignis shared a long look with one another, like they were holding some sort of silent conversation. Whatever was said, it was Gladio who ceded, and he released Prompto's wrist with a grunt and mumbled, "Sorry."

Prompto took a step away, holding his wrist close; heart wild in his chest.

Ignis turned to him. He was somehow the very image of composure, despite his dishevelled clothing. It did nothing for Prompto's nerves. He tried to force himself to breathe and found he was having a little more luck with that now. He took a few, steadying breaths.

Then Ignis took another step towards him and it became hard all over again.

He might have been let go but that didn't mean he was out of the deep end. And until he knew he was, Prompto's heart refused to slow.

It didn't help that Gladio was still very nearby and still very much glaring at him.

"Prompto," Ignis said, slowly. Almost comfortingly. "Sorry about my… companion. He didn't mean to frighten you. Are you alright?"

Prompto thought he was very much  _not_  alright, but the way Ignis was staring him down caused a different answer to leave his mouth.

"…Y-yeah, I… I'm alright," a beat, "… sir."

"Good," Ignis nodded, face relaying no opinion. He was so calm it was disturbing, what with the shield seething with rage and himself shaking like he'd just fallen into any icy pond.

He took another step towards him. Prompto backed up towards the door, untrusting. Ignis watched the action with furrowed eyebrows. "Are you sure? You're looking rather pale."

Prompto glanced down at his arms. He supposed he was.

"He's not the only one," Noctis muttered from the bed. Prompto couldn't bring himself to drag his eyes away from the man before him, who was now close enough to strike.

If he did try to strike, Prompto wasn't sure what he'd do. He had no experience in combat, while both advisors clearly had (if their muscles were any indication). Still, at least he was aware of the possibility. It was something.

Prompto really needed something right now.

"I suppose you have a point, highness," Ignis said. Another beat. Ignis pushed up the glasses on his nose. "I must apologise for what you just witnessed. It must have been quite the shock."

Prompto swallowed. "It… I think it wasn't just a shock for me, sir."

"Damn straight," Gladio said.

Ignis ignored his companion, eyes practically glued to his face. Maybe he was trying to read what he was planning to do; which would be just as well if Prompto could even think right now.

"Well, in that case, maybe we should try to discuss ways to deal with all this," Ignis said, ever calm. Prompto didn't know what he meant by that and he hated it.

He was about to say so when Ignis asked, "What's the price for your silence on this?"

"…What?"

"Your price," Ignis repeated. "To keep this from getting… unwanted attention."

He stared at the man for a moment, confused. Then it clicked.

Oh. Bribery.

The thing was, he had no intention of mentioning this to anyone, oh _no_. He wanted to just forget that this had ever happened, to pretend this was all some nightmare. He didn't need to be paid off. If anything, he felt a little bad taking the money.

But the thought of him refusing and them taking that the wrong way… Maybe his thoughts of being quietly disposed of in the dead of night would have some truth to them. After all, if they couldn't give him some sort of sum for his silence, what guarantee did they have that he wouldn't spill?

The dead, though, tell no tales.

He bit his lip. "I… I don't want your money…" Prompto said and, like he thought, Ignis' expression relayed pretty clearly how he'd taken that. He hastily covered, "I won't mention this to anyone. Really! I don't need to be bribed..."

If looks could kill, the shield's glare would have stabbed him to death.

Ignis didn't look pleased either. "Your word does little to reassure me."

Backed up right in front of the door he felt trapped, what with Ignis and Gladio both staring him down. He tried to reach for the door handle.

Noctis, who hadn't moved from the bed until now, finally joined his two advisors in corralling him before the door. Prompto finally found the metal handle and it felt cool to touch. If they all ganged up on him, maybe he could get through the door in time to give himself some leeway to escape.

It would be worth a shot, at least.

"There's nothing to stop him talking even if we did pay him," Noctis stated. Unlike Gladio's hot anger and Ignis's cold composure, the prince just looked… tired. It was odd. "The jig is up."

Gladio sighed, long and hard, clearly still piping mad but he had bottled it down. "So, what then? If we can't guarantee he'll keep his mouth shut, what? Do we just let him spill it all to the world?"

Noctis frowned. "We can't exactly stop him if he wants to. Besides, it was our fault for not locking the door. Call it karma."

Well, at least they weren't planning on murdering him where he stood. Prompto allowed his shoulders to drop.  _Hello oxygen, my old friend._

But now that he wasn't on the brink of a panic attack, he was starting to feel bad for them. He couldn't imagine what it must be like; having to keep a relationship like this a secret. To feel like they were being outed due to sheer bad luck must seem cruel. Although Prompto certainly respected the old laws, that didn't stop them from being… Well… Old.

The prince was clearly on the bad end of that.

And Prompto knew the pain of having to hide something about yourself all too well, as well as the horror of that secret being revealed.

These people had scared him to death moments before but  _man,_  he couldn't help feeling guilty. Maybe he should try to ease those worries a little?

Prompto took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I don't want to hurt the royal family. Really, I don't. I mean, I can't prove it or anything, but I'm not..." Their stares bore into him. He tightened his grip on the door handle. "I'm not that sort of person. I'd like to think I'm not, anyway."

Silence held in the air; heavy and uncomfortable. Prompto resisted the urge to shuffle his feet.

Then, Ignis said, with an air of finality: "If there's any truth to that, you will hand in your resignation."

His breath caught in his throat. The world stilled, in that moment. "What?"

Ignis stood a little straighter, his expression impassive. "If you really have the best interests of the royal family at heart, you will resign and hold your tongue. That's best for everyone involved, yes?" Ignis said smoothly.

"Wait, but… that's…" His mouth couldn't form words again. His mind couldn't think of an argument.

Noctis and Gladio just stared at Ignis, expressions slightly contorted. Prompto didn't know them well enough to read what those expressions meant and he was honestly too shocked to care.

He'd… have to go back home to Duscae.

He wouldn't cry. Not in front of the freaking prince of Lucis. He wouldn't cry.

Oh well, there were worst things than going back home, right? There were worse things than all the names people called him, the looks he received? There were worse things than being just that  _'damned Niflheim immigrant.'_

Right?

Prompto could barely see the red carpet through his blurred vision.

Suddenly, he wished he'd never gotten this job in the first place. Maybe then he wouldn't have finally,  _finally_ , hoped for more from life; only for it to be snatched away the moment he had it.

Ignis was right, though. It  _was_ better if he just left. At least he wouldn't have to worry about feeling awkward around them all after this.

Prompto took a shuddering breath. "…Alright. I'll go."

The words physically hurt to speak.

He tightened his grasp on the door handle when he remembered the letter in his pocket. He removed it, stared at it, and stretched out his hand. "Then, you should have this."

"What is it?" Ignis asked, not taking it.

"It's from his Majesty. I was supposed to deliver it to you…" Prompto teeth dug into his lip, leaving a copper taste in his mouth. He  _wouldn't_ cry.

Ignis considered the letter for a moment before taking it. "Thank you," he said and he sounded like he meant it.

He pressed down the door handle and the door swung open.

The burning in his eyes strengthened and he almost allowed the tears to roll; met with the darkness of the hall. At least they couldn't see them now. At least he could have that much.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and whirled him around. Prompto almost tripped over his feet. "This is ridiculous," the prince hissed. Prompto blinked, confused.

Ignis' wide eyes very much embodied how Prompto felt. "Highness—"

"We're not going to fire a man over this. He says he'll keep his mouth shut and I think he means it. Besides…" Noctis' stare was surprisingly bright. Determined. "It was our damned mistake. We'll have to live with the consequences of that, not him."

"Oh, come on," Gladio muttered.

"You, come on! You know I'm right," the prince turned to him and his gaze grew slightly softer. Prompto stared straight back – hopeful yet trying hard not to be.

Noctis said, "I'm trusting you here. Go back downstairs and don't mention anything about this. To anyone. We'll forget about this whole resignation thing."

Prompto somehow managed to speak. "Wait, you mean it?"

"Yeah, I do." Noctis smiled then. It seemed slightly awkward but Prompto found he appreciated that.

He didn't know what to say. "Wow… thanks so much, du- your highness. I swear I won't breathe a word."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to hold you to that. Now, go."

Prompto didn't need to be told twice. He practically ran out into the hall before the prince could turn around and take it back. But the prince never followed him, and he was left alone with swirling thoughts and emotions both.

* * *

 

"Was that wise, Noct?" Ignis asked, eyes glued to the door, seemingly in thought.

"Yeah," Gladio said. "If he can't keep his mouth shut, we're finished."

Noctis flopped down on the bed and stretched out his limbs. Although tension still sparked at his muscles and his heart was only just beginning to slow, his overriding need to sleep always won out in the end.

He yawned into the back of his hand. "He won't say anything," he said, eyes suddenly blurry with fatigue.

Gladio nudged his foot. Noctis kicked him back. "Sound pretty sure of yourself."

"I am," Noctis said, eyes falling closed.

And he was.

Though he couldn't see him with his eyes closed, Noctis knew Gladio was still looking at him – perhaps waiting for more of an answer – but Noct found he wasn't in the mood for debate anymore.

There was another tap to his foot before Gladio said, "Thoughts, Iggy?"

"I admit, he seemed genuine," Ignis said. There was a shift as Ignis moved closer to the bed. "While I agree that it's unlikely he will go to the press, I worry about the consequences of keeping him in our employment."

"It's fine," Noctis mumbled. "You worry too much, Specs,"

"And you don't worry enough, Noct," Ignis said. Noctis cracked open an eye to spy his partner. He seemed perfectly composed (he always did) but the slight hunch of his shoulders and the lines between his eyes revealed way too much.

While Noctis did have some faith in the servant, to say he wasn't worried was a complete lie.

If news of his relationship with his two advisors reached the press, he was ruined. Sure, he'd probably be able to find a wife eventually – even something like this wasn't enough to put someone off marrying royalty – but he'd forever be disgraced by the people for breaking one of the old laws.

And what an example that would set for his subjects. While the old laws weren't legally binding anymore, they were so ingrained into society that breaking one might as well be considered treason.

Princes were supposed to marry Queens. For the good of Insomnia. They were supposed to save themselves for their future wives. That was how it had always been.

Noctis made a disgusted face.

He may have thought that the law was incredibly dated and stupid but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of just how much stock people put into it. Sure, homosexuality was pretty well accepted now, but that seemed to extend to everyone but him.

Maybe Gladio and Ignis could get away with dating each other publicly. There'd be controversy, yes, but not enough to completely ruin everything they'd worked for till now. Gladio's mother would probably hate the idea and they'd be questioned at every turn, but it would be nothing astronomically terrible.

But if Noctis' affair with even one of them got out, that was still a breakage of the old law. His time of rule would always be marred by the fact in the history books. In turn, they'd be the people who the prince had an affair with. They'd be hounded at every turn and their houses would crumble to nothing.

Noctis had every reason in the world to be worried.

But still. To ruin someone's life because they caught them out. That was wrong. If Prompto chose to out them, Noctis would stand by his decision to let him stay. He would meet the hordes of press without regret.

Though he would be sorry for dragging his companion's reputations down with his own.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" Noctis asked tiredly, looking up at the golden chandelier above the bed. "I've had enough excitement for one day."

Ignis stared at the prince a moment, expression dripped with concern. Noctis chose to ignore him.

"Very well."

* * *

 

It took a while for the events of the night before to hit Prompto, when he woke up the next morning.

Part of him was sure it was all just a bizarre dream, and he honestly wanted to believe that was the case. It was definitely something his head would conjure up. His mind loved to give him more things to worry about, even if the worries it presented were completely irrational.

He was well on his way to playing it all off as an oddly realistic dream when Nyx woke up.

"You took a while delivering that message last night," he said, sounding surprisingly awake even though he'd only just opened his eyes. "Get lost?"

And the truth came crashing down on him like an avalanche.

"Uh… y-yeah… guess I didn't listen well enough to Sir Drautos' instructions," Prompto forced a laugh. "I got the message there in the end, though."

Nyx sat up in bed. "You'll get the hang of it, eventually. Just takes time."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Prompto said. This whole situation would definitely take time to get used to.

His clock read 6:00am. It was a little early to start preparations for breakfast yet, so Nyx flicked on the tv. The news was on. Hopeful for a distraction, Prompto watched the news reader as she shuffled some papers.

_"Intelligence reports suggest that Niflheim has been bolstering its Magitek infantry these last four years. Although the royal shield to the king – Clarus Amiticia – has stated that there's no need for concern just yet, some have suggested that the empire may be planning an assault in the coming months."_

Nyx glanced over to him and Prompto met his grim gaze as the newsreader reported on.

They changed the channel.

War was the last thing Prompto was worried about and that was saying something. Niflheim and their recent actions were scary. But really, who  _wouldn't_ be worried about a freaking war.

Yet in comparison to the prince's affair, it seemed relatively minor. War wasn't even a thing, yet, but what he'd seen was very much so.

Nyx began to dress and he followed suit.

While Prompto had no intention of revealing anything, he didn't have enough faith to believe that this was the last he'd ever hear of the prince's affair.

He wasn't that lucky.

* * *

 

As he served breakfast, Prompto made a point of avoiding the shield's gaze at every turn.

For some reason, the king, Noctis and Ignis were all missing at the table. Nyx had mentioned, briefly, that it happened relatively often. Usually council meets were arranged for very early in the morning. They'd be served breakfast later, after the meetings were over.

But that didn't mean the table was empty.

Gladio's gaze scrutinised him at every turn as he placed down platters of sausages and toast. It was really uncomfortable. Prompto tried to ignore him but it was hard, especially when he could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head.

But Prompto knew this was going to be awkward. He could handle it.

Maybe.

Gladio wasn't eating alone. There was also a girl with brown hair, who sat just opposite him. She looked about eighteen. Pretty. Prompto hadn't seen her last night at dinner.

Maybe she was his fiancé? It was entirely possible, even with his ongoing affair.

"-and then," the girl gushed as Nyx placed a bowl in front of her. She reached for the cornflakes. "I managed to beat her at Tekken! She was pretty mad, but it was so worth it."

Gladio hummed. At least he was no longer staring at him like he'd just killed his dog.

"And then!" the girl continued, eyebrows creased. "She had the nerve to say I cheated! Can you believe it? I mean, just because she's bad doesn't mean that…" The girl slowly frowned. "Gladdy, are you listening?"

Prompto blinked. Gladdy.  _Gladdy!_ He nearly laughed.

Gladdy was such a cute and cuddly name while the big guy was neither of those things. Well, he might be cuddly – he looked like he gave bear hugs – but Prompto doubted Gladio would ever be cute even if he wore a bunny outfit. The name certainly made him seem a lot less intimidating, though.

Gladio gave him a sharp look. Prompto took it back.

He turned his attention back to the girl. She was looking at him weird now. "Sorry, Iris. Go on."

The girl – Iris – didn't seem happy. "You're distracted. Is something up?"

"No, it's just," Gladio glanced over at him for about half a second. Prompto stood a little stiffer. Gladio scowled down at his bacon. "It's nothing. Forget about it."

"Is it about Noct?" Iris asked, twirling her cereal with her spoon. "He seemed pretty tired this morning… well, more tired than usual, anyway."

"Yeah, I suppose you could say that," Gladio said slowly. "Though it's really none of your business."

Iris laughed, light and teasing. Prompto quite liked the sound. "Well, you are quick enough to look into my business. Besides, I'm your sister, aren't I? It's a sister's duty to worry."

Oh. Iris wasn't his fiancé, but his sister. That made sense. They did look similar in ways, now that Prompto thought about it. Especially with the hair.

Gladio huffed. "More like it's a sister's duty to snoop."

"Oh, don't be harsh, Gladdy. You know you worry me. Noct does too."

Gladio smirked then; a smile which made him look devious. It was somewhat subdued but still very plain to see. "I think the way you worry about Noct is quite different to the way you worry about me though," he said, looking a little less stiff in his chair.

"What are you trying to say?" Iris asked. Prompto watched the pink appear on her cheeks and understood instantly. Well, it wasn't like he didn't get it.

It was weird to see Gladio – the man who'd terrified the living daylights out of him – and Gladdy – the teasing elder brother – as the same person. It was like someone had come in and taken the guy's place. A man who seemed genuinely kind, though rough around the edges.

It was weird.

It was weirder to think he was the one who had called forth that angry Gladio.

"I wasn't trying to say anything," Gladio said, the smile falling away. "Now, eat your cereal."

Iris pouted as she shovelled cornflakes into her mouth.

The two spent the rest of breakfast talking about random topics Prompto had next to no knowledge in. Politics, fellow dukes, the recent visit of the duchess of Caelum (apparently a very distant cousin of the prince) and the prince's dislike of her. Iris mentioned in passing that it didn't seem like Noctis wanted to marry at all. Gladio said nothing.

Prompto suspected he knew why.

Then the food was gone and Iris stood up to leave. "Coming, Gladdy?" she asked as she patted down her skirt. "I'm going to see dad. He should be out of the meeting by now."

"I will in a minute," he replied. Then he said, without looking up from his empty dish, "I've got some business with the new footman."

Prompto froze. Nyx looked at him with slightly furrowed brows.

"Well, alrighty then," Iris said. "Have fun."

The door closed behind her. Prompto felt he might be drowning. Not again. He really didn't want to be chewed out by the guy a second time. His poor heart couldn't take much more.

Gladio turned to Nyx and Libertus. "Could you leave us a sec? There's just something I wanted to say in private." The guy's voice gave nothing away, though Prompto knew that he was either about to be yelled at or carved open.

Nyx's gaze lingered, silently questioning him. Prompto avoided it like the plague. "Alright, Gladiolus. We'll be back in fifteen."

Gladiolus? The shield was named after a flower?

Prompto would definitely be laughing if he wasn't freaking terrified.

"Great. Thanks."

The door slammed behind them. Prompto wished he was on the other side, and not trapped in here with a guy who was glaring at him  _again._

Prompto knew why Gladio had kept him behind, but he also didn't. Was there really anything else to talk about? Wasn't it better for everyone if they all just pretended it wasn't even a thing?

But no, Gladio seemed to have other ideas about that.

The silence held for so long Prompto thought he might buckle beneath it. Gladio just stared at him; glaring but it lacked the sheer rage the glare yesterday held.

That was something, at least.

Finally, he spoke.

"Listen, Prompto," he said, voice gruff and threatening. It was nothing like the voice he'd used with Iris. "About what you saw last night. It goes without saying but just because Noct was insane enough to save your skin, doesn't mean that you're in the clear. Got that?"

Prompto swallowed and gave a slight nod. He fought the urge to hug himself.

"Say it," Gladio demanded.

"… I got it," Prompto said.

Gladio narrowed his eyes. "You better damn well remember that. I don't care what your sob story is. If you cause harm to either one of them, in any way, I will personally make sure that you live to regret it. Got that?"

Prompto looked down at his feet. "Yeah, I got it," he mumbled.

Scary as the man was, Prompto knew that he must truly care about his two companions. That was the reason he was being threatened. Prompto supposed he may act the same, in his situation.

While it didn't stop the fear clawing at his brain, it did make Gladio's harsh tone a little easier to take.

Gladio crossed his arms, still unhappy. "And something else, too. While the prince seems to trust you, don't think that extends to Ignis and I. We will be keeping a close eye on you, kid. A very close eye. If you mention a thing about this, to anyone, we will know."

"Well, yeah, but…" Prompto began, but he cut himself off when Gladio stood. Even at their current distance apart, the man was still tall enough to be intimidating. Prompto had to force his voice to cooperate. "I said I won't say anything. Shouldn't that earn me some points, if nothing else?"

"Actions speak louder than words. I'll congratulate you if you keep your mouth shut and only then."

Gladio walked over to the door, his footsteps loud against the wood. Prompto winced at the loudness of them. "I've said my piece. Shut up and we'll all get along. Don't, and I'll make sure that you don't leave this place in quite the same way as you entered."

The door swung open and then, the shield was gone, taking his threats with him.

But the cold feeling they left him with remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working without a beta here, but I do my best to find every error before publishing. However, if any of you do happen to catch errors that I managed to miss,, don't hesitate to let me know so I can go about fixing them!


	3. A Royal Intervention

Prompto had many fears.

Heights, tight spaces, snakes, that weird clown in those old ice cream commercials… More recently, he'd added the prince and his crazy lovers to his list of fears. He felt theu had well-earned theirplace.

Since he had so many fears, he knew well how to deal with them.

Or, he knew how to avoid them like they carried the plague.

He never looked down on staircases, avoided elevators with a vengeance, only went into exotic animal stores when someone had okayed it and closed his eyes whenever he heard that familiar jingle. He dodged his fears so often that he almost considered it a special skill.

So, how did he avoid the prince?

That… was a work in progress.

Three days after discovering the prince's scandal, Gladio still glared at him from across the dinner table with the sort of fury Prompto only possessed in his dreams. Prompto tried to avert his gaze (he was never good at impulse control) but Gladio's eyes bore into him like fireballs, burning wherever they touched.

At least Noctis and Ignis seemed content to ignore him. Prompto could cope with that.

"The Duchess of Illia will be arriving tomorrow," Regis said, face turned to the prince. "I'll send a message about the time."

"Alright," Noctis said, frowning down at his soup. It was weird, hearing Regis try to set Noctis up knowing what he got up to behind closed doors. At least it explained why the prince seemed so reluctant to marry.

Promtpo couldn't really see the appeal Ignis and Gladio held for the prince (they were handsome, yeah, but scary as shit). However, Prompto had been through a few painful breakups in his life and they'd been bad enough. He couldn't imagine being split apart not by lack of love, but by duty.

Part of him didn't understand why they'd gotten together in the first place.

Ignis sat a little taller in his chair. From his position, Ignis' back was to him. "We need to discuss the upcoming Harvest Festival, your majesty. The cook has bought some ingredients for the dining afterwards, but would like to know if you had any special requests."

Regis' gaze lingered on Noctis for a moment longer before it flickered to the man. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"I thought a somewhat sweet menu would be well received. Marinated chicken, sweet curry sauces and the like. I know his highness," he looked meaningfully at Noctis, "would appreciate such a menu."

"Will you be cooking for it this year?" Iris asked, leaning forward a little. "Your steak last year was  _so good_."

"I may," Ignis said.

Iris sat back, clearly pleased.

Prompto ventured to look up a little more but Gladio's stare quickly made him change his mind. However, his quick movement must have been too obvious. Iris was looking at him now and tapped Gladio's shoulder as she murmured something Prompto couldn't hear.

He stopped glaring.

Prompto could faintly hear him say, "Forget about it, Iris."

Iris glanced at him again before returning her attention to the food.

* * *

 

After his  _wonderful_  talk with Gladio, Prompto had decided that it would be best to avoid the prince and his retainers as much as possible; both to stop him from dying of heart failure at the age of thirty and to slowly earn their trust.

Gladio had said that he needed to make them trust him. Prompto had no idea how to go about doing that. Maybe he should have asked for a guide or a cheat sheet. A 'How the fuck to make the prince trust you' pamphlet.

The only thing he could think of was to avoid them until they decided he'd kept quiet long enough to earn their faith. How nice and simple.

Hah.

Gladio hadn't lied about keeping a close eye on him. His glare was a constant presence during meal times. He seemed determined not to let him sink into the scenery.

Gladio hated him, completely and truly. Prompto knew what hate looked like and he could see it in every facet of Gladio's expression.

And Iris was not the only one who had noticed.

"Whatever you did to make Gladio hate you that much must be comedy gold," Libertus said one night. "Did you ask out Iris or something?"

"No, I… I don't know what I've done," Prompto tried and hoped Libertus couldn't hear the squeak to his voice.

"Right," Libertus said, obviously unconvinced. "Guess we all have our secrets, then."

Prompto really wanted to bury himself underground and never emerge again.

At least Noctis and Ignis both seemed content to pretend he wasn't even there. He had caught Noctis looking at him sometimes but Ignis was calculated in that he never so much as looked in his general direction.

Good. All the staring was making him self-conscious.

With the exception of his talk with Gladio, he hasn't so much as said a word to the three since the other night, beyond "more wine?" or "here you go, sir." Silence between them seemed the best way to keep everyone sane, he supposed.

While Prompto would rather be alone than confronted, he would have liked a little more… instruction… on what he was supposed to do beyond keeping quiet. Like, what was he supposed to do when people asked questions? Stuff like that.

But the thought of going up and asking what he should to made him nauseas and so he ploughed on.

That was right up until Drautos came down to rain on his parade.

"Regis requests Noctis' presence when the Duchess of Illia arrives at around three pm today. Prompto, deliver that message, if you will," Drautos said.

It was stupid to try and defy a direct order but the thought of talking to them again made him try anyway.

"Uh… I was just cleaning," Prompto said weakly and nodded to the candlestick in his hand. He instantly regretted it when Drautos' face twisted.

"Did I ask what you were doing, Argentum? Go."

Prompto glanced down at the clean candlestick in his hand and bit his lip, digging though his mind for something to say which wouldn't make things worse.

"What's wrong, blondie?" Aranea, the housekeeper, asked him. "Scared of the prince or something?"

Was he that easy to read?

"What? N-no, why would I be?" Prompto tried. It was easy enough to keep something secret when people never asked but lying was not his forte. People read him too easily. It didn't help that his voice went crazy pitched when he panicked.

Aranea shrugged, "Could have fooled me. Anyway, kid, you should stop acting so jumpy. It's exhausting to watch."

"Got it! Right!" he said sheepishly, not sounding anymore calm than he had a minute ago. Aranea said he was exhausting to watch. It was even more exhausting to feel, he thought.

Aranea turned and left down the hall. Drautos glare bore into him.

"Feeling up for it now, Argentum? Or would rather test my patience?"

His throat felt like it was closing up. He was drawing too much attention to himself and attention brought questions. Libertus looked suspicious again.

He couldn't stand the thought of going upstairs, of seeing the prince and his retinue again, but if what Gladio said held any weight then the exposure of the scandal could leave him with more than just anxiety.

"Uh… sorry, sir," Prompto said, forcing himself to stand. "I'll go now."

* * *

 

As he walked over to the Prince's room, getting lost continuously in the endless hallways, Prompto supposed it could be worse.

Noctis wasn't as bad as the other two. He scared the shit out of him and it couldn't be underplayed that he was the freaking  _prince_  but thinking back to four nights ago when he'd found them, the prince's reaction had been the easiest to take.

He'd looked defeated. Withdrawn. There had been nothing hateful about the way he'd looked at him, unlike with Ignis and Gladio. Prompto wouldn't like to push his luck with the prince but he thought he could stand to talk to him.

Noctis' door was no more ornate than any other door in the hall. It was painted white and looked decidedly common but it still struck nausea into his throat. No going back. He knocked.

"Your highness?"

He waited a moment. He was getting better at maintaining the fancy talk act, at least.

"Yeah?" Noctis called back, his response slightly delayed. Prompto suspected he knew why. 

"Uh… I have a message for you, your highness."

There was another long pause. Prompto jumped once on the spot to release some nervous energy. "Alright, come in."

He pushed the door like he thought it was going to fall on top of him.

To Prompto's slight surprise, Noctis' room was just as basic as his door. No posters hung on the walls but he did have a bulletin board with some pictures on it (pretty much all were badly shot but Prompto refused to comment) and his bed, while massive, wasn't excessively glamourous. There was a TV in the corner and a chandelier on the ceiling. It was luxurious but comfy.

It was nice.

Prompto refused to go beyond a foot of the door and had to practically fight himself to meet Noctis' eye. The prince sat cross-legged on the bed; reading something with a red cover, but his long-distance sight was crap and he couldn't read the title with the distance.

Thick silence held in the air but it wasn't like the tension of the other night. It was… quieter. More uncomfortable instead of strangling. Noctis crossed his arms and pressed him. "Go on, then."

"Uh…his Majesty wants you to meet him to greet the Duchess of Illia when she arrives, at about three today," Prompto said. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, trying to work out tension.

Noctis pursed his lips, almost like he was pouting, and that thought helped to ease a little of his anxiety. Eventually, the prince sighed and the withdrawn look returned to his eye, same as the other night.

"Thanks for telling me," he muttered. He picked up the book on his lap and pushed it down, away from him. "I'll be there. Anything else?"

"No… nothing else."

"Then, you're good to go, I guess."

Well, that wasn't too bad, Prompto mused. Awkward, yeah, but… manageable.

He didn't need to be told twice. He was just about to turn when he saw the book Noctis had on his bed. He'd pushed the book closer to him now and Prompto could vaguely make out the writing now.

_Justice Monsters #22_

"Oh my god," Prompto said before he could stop himself.

"What's wrong?" Noctis asked with a raised eyebrow. Prompto blinked.

 _Oh my god, why was he such a moron?_  "It… it's nothing," he tried to cover.

"Well, that's an obvious lie," Noctis stated. He looked at him for a moment and his mouth dropped into a deeper frown. "C'mon. Spill."

Prompto's eyes flicked back to the comic laid upon the prince's bed.

It was embarrassing to admit sometimes but Prompto had a thing for comics and always had. Ever since he found one carelessly discarded outside a convenience store and picked it up out of curiosity, he'd loved the bright pictures and the art and the plots of the things.

Prompto didn't have any friends in school for… reasons… but he used to listen in on some of his classmates' conversations about comic books. He learned about which comics were good, which were bad, which were just okay and he'd buy some whenever he could. He even got a small job at a post office to help fund the hobby, as well as to help him buy more camera equipment.

But the comic series Prompto remembered most fondly was Justice Monsters, as it was the first series which truly captured his young heart as well as his eye. Justice Monsters #5 was the first comic book he ever bough.

Sadly, the series had proved unpopular and stopped after #34, but Prompto loved it still. Prompto had never even heard of anyone beside himself owning the Justice Monsters series and he never could have imagined the Prince of Lucis would be one of them.

Prompto didn't want to say all that though, so he settled on, "I just haven't seen a Justice Monsters comic in years, your highness. I used to love them."

Noctis' eyes went kind of wide and Prompto thought maybe he was being too open, even with a short answer. He considered taking it back when Noctis asked, "You've heard of them?" He spoke slowly, like he was weary.

"Yeah," Prompto said carefully. "Used to have them all. Had to sell them when I moved from home, though."

"Really?" Noctis' face relayed no opinion. "That's surprising. Thought I'd never meet a fellow fan."

"Neither did I," Prompto said, allowing himself a small smile.

A sudden wave of self-consciousness hit him and he wavered. He wasn't supposed to be talking to the prince like this, about freaking comic books of all things. Fear about acting appropriately dug into his back and he stiffened.

Part of him wanted to ask about the other night, about how they should go on from here, but his unbearable need to leave the room won out. He backed up to the door. "Hope you have a nice day, your highness," he said quietly.

Noctis seemed to be considering him for a few moments before he said, "You too."

Prompto stepped into the hall and forced himself not to think about it.

* * *

 

Noctis looked down to the comic on his bed, to the door, and back to the comic book.

Prompto. He really was full of surprises. Prompto looked like the playboy sort; considering he was thin, blonde and sharp featured. Noctis wouldn't have taken him for a fan of obscure comics.

Many people could say the same for him.

He put the comic back into its box and gently pushed in under his bed. He supposed he should have said something about the whole affair thing. Maybe he should have apologised, or at least apologised for the way Gladio was glaring him to death.

But the subject was an uncomfortable one and he couldn't help feeling a little relieved he didn't say anything. Besides, he had other concerns.

The Duchess of Illia. Noctis had never met her. She was apparently from Altissa with a reputation for her refined taste in wine. Beyond that, he supposed he'd just have to meet her to find out.

Noctis wasn't feeling too optimistic.

He glanced at the clock. 1:45pm.

He was just wondering whether to get ready when there was a knock on the door.

He was popular today.

"Noct?"

_Iggy._

"Come in, Specs," Noctis said.

Ignis entered quickly and closed the door. "Was that Prompto I just saw leaving?" He asked.

"It was," Noctis said. Then he grinned. "Turns out he's a nerd."

Ignis raised a brow and sort of… stared at him for a moment. "I'm not going to ask. Only you, highness, could find something like that out from a man with the power to ruin you."

"It's a gift," Noctis said, smiling.

Ignis narrowed his eyes slightly and Noctis met it with his own. To say that they'd disagreed on how to handle Prompto had been an understatement. For days, they had discussed and argued about what to do.

Ignis didn't trust him but respected Noctis' decision to let him stay around; though he constantly argued against it ( _"Highness, won't you reconsider" or "Noct, are you truly sure about this?")_ Gladio, on the other hand, was being more difficult.

Not wanting for that argument to be brought up again, Noctis said, "Anyway, what are you here for?"

Ignis took the hit. He stopped looking at him quite so severely. "I came to discuss Gladio."

"About the whole Iris thing, you mean?"

"Indeed," Ignis said, expression grim.

Gladio had been too obvious in his glaring and Iris had caught him out on it. After dinner, she had called Ignis aside and asked him what was going on. He'd given some explanation about how Gladio was under a lot of stress and Iris had bought it, but Noctis doubted it would work quite so well a second time.

Deciding to dress, Noctis turned to his dresser and dug through his clothes. "What do you want to do then, Iggy?"

Ignis moved over to the bed and sat heavily upon it. Noctis could read the stress on his face like words in a children's book. He frowned. Ignis always put all the stress on himself.

"I feel the best way to handle this would be to ease his worries about Prompto. Or, ease them as much as possible. He's taking all this a lot harder than you and I," Ignis said.

He could say that again. While Ignis could worry until the world froze over, Gladio was fiercely protective. He saw Prompto as a threat – a threat he was both unable and forbidden to deal with.

"Do you have a plan?" Noctis said as he pulled his shirt on.

Ignis frowned a little harder. "I was wondering if you might try and talk to him."

"Why?" Noctis furrowed his brows. "He listens to you more than me."

Ignis' gaze lingered on him, frozen on his face. It was a look he often gave before he set out a plan or gave some elaborate information on a visiting dignitary. It was a look which meant Noctis ought to pay attention.

He began, "I don't give Prompto as much faith as you do, Noct. I agree that he seems to be a decent man and his words had felt genuine but trust him with our reputations, I do not."

Noctis was about to argue against him when Ignis raised his hand. "However, I understand that there is very little we can do about that now and am willing to give him the time to prove himself."

Ignis paused. "Gladio has yet to realise this or rather, he doesn't want to believe it. He wants assurance on Prompto's silence, which he can't have. Worse, his attempts to guarantee his silence are causing suspicion. Gladio needs to see whatever you do in Prompto. And, as such, you are the best person to go to him."

Noctis considered what he said for a moment. He didn't know that Ignis had finally accepted that this matter was out of their hands.

The way Ignis was making it sound, his belief in the servant was unwavering when it really wasn't. He  _wanted_ to trust him, but he knew how easy it would be for him to tell the world about their sin.

Still, if talking to Gladio would help at all…

Noctis leaned over and kissed Ignis on the forehead. "I'll do my best, though I can't see what good it will do. I'll go after I meet the Duchess."

"That's all I ask," Ignis said.

* * *

 

Unlike how it was in Gladio's romance novels, the story of how they all came together was a rocky one. Expectation, duty and the inevitability that he would eventually need to find a queen all came in the way, like road blocks; and they didn't pass every hitch with ease, or sometimes even fully.

But they persevered. They all wanted it, even if they couldn't have it forever. Noctis knew that most of all.

Ironically, it was himself – weighed down by duty – and Ignis – hyperaware and over-cautious – who started the whole thing. They were the ones who made the whole 'friends' thing not work.

Noctis remembered the time where everything changed well. It had been his graduation. He'd passed top of his class in most subjects and was named valedictorian of his year. He remembered the swell of pride in his chest but also the embarrassment about having to give speech. Public speaking wasn't his thing.

"Very well done, your highness," Ignis had said after the ceremony. There was a softness to his gaze then, a rare thing.

"I know. I'm awesome," Noctis had replied.

The prince's school years had been a lonely existence for him. He'd kept everyone at arm's length and for good reason. People had looked up at him like he was a golden ticket, a way into the good life, or sometimes just as a prop. A figure and not a person. He'd hated it.

He'd wanted friends outside of his royal circle but in the end, he allowed himself to be happy with just Gladio and Ignis. They were enough.

Ignis had understood, though he was saddened to hear, why Noctis preferred to keep to himself during school hours. At least he managed to bump up his academics from being alone so much.

It was something.

He remembered the dinner held at the Citadel in his honour, his old man congratulating him for his success and Ignis for leading him there. Ignis had said,  _"_ No need, your highness, he earned this all on his own," and Noctis, through his surprise, had stood a little taller.

Gladio had been there too, though only briefly He'd ruffled his hair and completely embarrassed him in front of the Count Valiar. Noctis barely had time to swear to kick his ass when Gladio was quickly swept away by his father to deal with some guard issue. Noct didn't seen him for the rest of the night.

Eventually, Noct had gotten aggravated by the party and dragged Ignis outside for a spell.

Moonlight had dappled the Ignis' face as they'd sat alone in the gardens, bathed in the shadows. It had been mild, his favourite sort of weather. He could still feel the heat on his skin when he thought about the memory.

"You must feel relieved," Ignis had said. He recalled the moon being reflected in his glasses.

"I am. Sucks that the homework's never going to end though," Noctis had replied.

Ignis had frowned and reminded him of his duty for the umpteenth time, as he always did. He couldn't recall most of the conversation after that – Ignis reminded him of his duty so much the conversations mostly blended together in his mind - but he did remember how it ended.

When he'd said, "I think if I didn't know my duty by now, I'd be in deep shit."

Ignis had fallen quiet after that. Noctis hadn't been able to understand why, for a while, but as time passed and the silence grew Noctis had connected the striken look on Ignis' face to the reason.

He remembered he'd learned forward; said something about how he "got this" and how Ignis "worried too much." Most of it was a blur of reassurances, nothing notable enough to remember.

And Ignis said, "I know. I do believe in you, Noct, no matter what appearances might lead you to believe."

Then it was his turn to freeze. Ignis rarely said things like that, even since then. His belief in him was a largely silent thing. Noctis knew it was there but to have it spoken aloud… it was weird to hear.

"I know, Iggy," he'd said, not knowing what else to say. He'd leaned further forward and rested a hand on Ignis' shoulder. "I know you do."

He remembered breathing in and the scent of Ignis – some musky sort of cologne – had numbed his mind for a moment.

Next thing, Ignis was close. Right up to his face.

"Highness," he'd said, almost quiet enough to be a whisper. Noctis had looked up to his glasses and then down to his lips.

He didn't know why had done it it but they'd kissed under the summer moon and it never felt wrong. Even though Noctis had never considered Ignis as more than a friend, everything had felt right then. Even when they'd broken away, Ignis uncharacteristically red, he didn't regret.

He didn't open his heart to love right then but he'd allowed himself to consider it.

And eventually, after they kissed again after days of awkwardness, he allowed the walls to come down and their relationship to develop from something fleeting to something tangible.

Noctis didn't want to lose something good if he could have it, even with both of their doubts. Even if any relationship between them would have to be kept secret.

Gladio… falling in love with Gladio had been nothing like that. There hadn't been anything tentative, or slow, or fleeting like with Iggy. There hadn't been a specific moment.

Falling for Gladio had been like an adrenalin rush. Passion and heat. It had happened so quickly Noctis could barely keep up.

Noct had admitted to Gladio about a month into his relationship with Iggy what the deal was – he'd been asking too many questions and Noctis had felt guilty - and everything was a blur from there.

Gladio somehow managed to sleep with them both despite the fact they were taking it slow before that and he somehow managed to coax the initially wary Ignis into being alright with the whole thing.

Gladio had been like a missing puzzle piece. Him being there had felt right and so he stayed.

Before Noctis knew it, he had two very different partners. Both of whom he was unlikely to keep beside him.

Yet when they were together, the bitterness about that fell away, and all his misgivings dissolved to dust. He'd probably regret loving when the time came for the inevitable break, but he was prepared for it.

He wasn't happy, but he was prepared.

* * *

 

_Clash, clang, clash._

Steel glittered through the air.

_Clang, clang._

Sparks fizzed down to the ground.

_Clash, clash, clang, screech._

The swords broke apart and Gladio skidded across the marble, sword held heavily before him.

"You're tense, Gladio," Cor mused but didn't back down. He rarely did when criticising him; not since he was thirteen.

Gladio ground his teeth and they went again.

He swung, wide and sweeping. Cor jumped back, like it was easy, sword held tight to his hip. It probably was. Gladio could feel the sloppiness in his swings and knew he was fighting like crap.

"Clear you mind. Focus."

It was damned well hard to focus. The more he tried to push thoughts out of his head, the more they stabbed their way back in. He was angry and frustrated and it was coming though.

Damn that Prompto. Damn Noct for letting him stay. Damn himself for not stopping it all in the first place.

But his anger didn't excuse his performance. His emotions weren't supposed to influence how he fought. The King's shield was supposed to be above that.

Cor caught Gladio's blade against his own as he swung down, twisted, and Gladio's blade hit the ground with a dull crack. He growled inwardly.

Cor's face was impassive. "Your form is off, Gladio. You're swinging too wide and reacting too slow. These are rookie mistakes. What's wrong?"

Gladio reached for the weapon on the ground. The grip was slick with sweat. "Sorry. I got a lot on my mind," he sighed. Cor didn't appreciate excuses. He wiped his head with his forearm and stood tall. "I got this now, Marshall. Let's go again."

Cor frowned and made no move to get back into position. "It's unlike you to get so distracted," he stated. Gladio wondered if Cor would be able to keep a clear mind if it was his affair that had been exposed. He probably would. Cor was unshakable.

"I suppose I just need to blow off steam." Gladio said. He knew Cor wanted a proper answer. He was going to have to deal with not getting one.

"Needing to blow off steam isn't an excuse to let your training go to waste," Cor said. "Besides, I'm afraid I can't train anymore. I really must be getting on-"

"Gladio, Cor."

Gladio turned his head and quickly found the source of the voice. Noctis lingered by the training room doorway, leaning heavily against the door frame. He offered a curt wave.

"Highness," Cor nodded as Noct jogged over. He wasn't in his training gear and Gladio supposed he must've been coming from his meeting with that duchess. "What brings you here?"

"I was looking for Gladio," Noct said. He looked between them both, his gaze lingering on him a little too long, and Gladio suddenly felt itchy in his own skin. "Am I interrupting something?"

Cor pursed his lips. "I was just putting him through his paces. Seems your shield's been having a few off-days recently."

"Had to happen sometime," Noctis smiled, all smug like. Something hot burned in Gladio's gut. He'd wipe that smug look off his face when he kicked his ass.

Cor nodded again. "Well, as I was just about to tell you Gladio, I'm off to help train the new Crownsguard recruits. His highness has seen it fit to improve our security given recent developments with Niflheim."

Gladio's father had told him about that. About how their spies had found plans for new Magitek creations in a Niflheim lab; creations which would probably be used against them. The king was good at keeping a straight face but Gladio knew that he must be worried.

It seemed war was truly on its way.

"Gladio, will you stay behind?" Cor asked levelly. He slotted his katana into its sheath.

"Yeah," Gladio said. "Don't want to finish on a bad note."

"As you wish," Cor said and he nodded to the prince. "Till later then, Gladio. Your highness."

"See you," Noctis said.

Gladio waited until the door slammed shut behind Cor before he opened his mouth. He was still feeling restless and could do with a couple more rounds but the prince's demands always took priority.

"What's up, Noct?" He asked, sharper than he would have liked, but he rarely watched his tone anyway. The prince could handle it well enough.

Noctis glanced down at the weapon in his hands. He used a basic greatsword for training, and it was slightly lighter than the one he used in real battle. Weaker too. Gladio preferred his proper sword.

Noctis' gaze was oddly severe. "Iggy said you were blowing off steam."

"Well, he's right," Gladio said. "If you have something to say, get on with it. It's doing neither of us any good."

"Fair enough," Noctis said. There was a spark of blue around his hand, a clang, and then suddenly a pistol appeared in his hand.

"You want to fight me with a gun?" Gladio raised a brow as sparks of ether faded away.

"Cor said I need more target practice," Noct said simply, his voice thick with boredom. "Help me with it."

"Help you how? I'm a crap shot and I don't enjoy being a moving target."

Noctis frowned. "I meant that I want you to spot for me. I'll shoot; you tell me how much I'm off target. That's pretty much what Cor does."

"Iggy would help more," Gladio said. "At least he knows what to look for."

"Well he's not here," Noct loaded the gun. "And I want to talk."

Gladio wanted to refuse and train a little more but Noctis gave him a look which shined with determination. He supposed he should quit whining and just get on with it. Though he knew could imagine what he wanted to talk about. Prompto, or at least something about him. Again.

They walked over to a set of targets lined up against the wall. Noctis looked down the barrel of his gun and shot. The crack was loud and booming and it echoed through the walls.

Gladio glanced at where the bullet landed on the target and grinned. "Cor was right. You're shot's well off."

"Still better than anything you could do," Noctis muttered. He reloaded and shot again, missing in the complete other direction. "Damn…"

Gladio frowned. "Anyway, what did you have to say, No—"another shot, "-ct? Move the gun up a bit, you're shooting too low."

"Right," Noctis nodded. He fired and the bullet struck just beside the bullseye. Gladio nodded approvingly.

"Better."

"Uh huh."

Noctis fired one more time before finally talking. "Me and Iggy think you need to tone down your glaring a bit. Iris caught you yesterday."

He fired again. Gladio frowned. "I glare at him to intimidate him. To shut him up."

Noctis frowned, fired, reloaded. "I know," he said. "You're worried about what Prompto could do. So are we, but you can't control what he does. You shouldn't keep trying to. Trying to intimidate him is just giving us more problems."

"Really? How's that?" Gladio huffed. He couldn't believe he was being lectured, by Noct of all people. How situations changed.

Noctis said, "Sooner or later, more people will notice what you're doing and start asking questions. Do you really think we will be able to keep up the secret if my old man or yours start getting curious?"

"They can't force us to tell them anything," Gladio said.

"Maybe. And if they turn to Prompto, ask him what he's done to deserve your anger?" Noctis asked. Gladio clenched his fists. "You confident he'll keep quiet when it's the  _king_  who asks the questions?"

Noctis fired again, just on the outside of the bullseye. "Prompto already knows about us. Nothing we can do about that. You need to stop acting like that's going to change if you intimidate him enough, when it won't. This isn't in our hands anymore."

"That's shit," Gladio growled. "You want to leave him run around unchecked?"

"No," Noctis said. He fired and it struck the centre, finally. "But that's what we have to do."

Noctis shook his hand and the gun dissolved back into the ether. "We broke the old law and we must deal with its consequences. You can't protect us from that, Gladio."

Gladio stared down at the wooden sword in his hand.

It was his job to protect the prince from every possible threat, even at the cost of his life. He was supposed to be a voice which pushed him away from rash choices and defended him from his critics.

Yet, he couldn't protect the prince from this. Worse, he was part of the thing which was going to ruin him.

He rubbed a hand across his face and sighed into it. He knew Noctis was right. This was unlike him. He knew that it was stupid to worry and even stupider to worry about things he couldn't change.

Just this once, he'd let the prince have his way. "Alright, Noct, you win. I'll stop glaring at him, but if he so much as opens his mouth—"

"—Then you'll kick his ass," Noctis smiled. "Great. Not that he will, of course."

He's ask one day why Noct had so much faith in the kid. What he saw in him, Gladio didn't get, but maybe he should try and see it more.

Blue sparks fizzed around Noctis' hand and a sword appeared in his grip. "Want to go a couple rounds?"

That, he could get. "Yeah," he said. "Let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys only knew how many times I rewrote this...
> 
> Originally, the events in this chapter were entirely different. You'd all be shocked if you saw the original draft (Noctis didn't even get a POV, for one). However, I thought some events were happening a little soon so I pushed some content back into the next chapter. Then I didn't like how the chapter was written and so I rewrote it again and then once more to fix the errors of the rewrite. I must have written 15,000 words for this all in all. 
> 
> I'm still not too happy with this and it got to the point where I couldn't stand looking at the chapter anymore. Still, I hope it entertained you all, at least.
> 
> (On the plus side, the next chapter is partly written. I'll take that as a win.)


	4. A Royal Festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, this took a long time.
> 
> I feel I should apologise for this taking so long. Life literally came in and rammed me hard in the back and I literally had no time to write at all for a while there. Not to mention that I had to edit this thing after all that. Not really ideal so early into this fic's life but hayy! Hopefully this won't happen again!
> 
> So, I hope you'll all enjoy this slightly longer chapter as an apology.

Prompto never really celebrated any of the season events when he was young. He didn't have friends to attend the Summer Solstice or the Winter Ball with and his dad used to have him work through the Spring and Autumn seasons. It was strange. To think that tomorrow he’d be at his first, even if he was working and not revelling in it.

The Harvest Celebrations were dedicated to the astral Titan. As thanks for saving the land from annihilation by catching the meteor, people worked the lands and offered their gains to him as 'tribute.' Back in Duscae, the Harvest Celebrations were a very big deal what with Titan being the patron astral and all. One of Prompto's few fond memories of the bakery includes making cute cookies with Titan's face scrawled across the top in brown icing.

The main event, though, was the dancing. The Harvest Dance. It was only a little disappointing that he'd be watching tomorrow instead of joining in but, knowing his dancing skills, that may be a blessing in disguise.

Still, even though the celebrations were cool and fun, that didn’t mean they didn’t have their share of annoyances.

Now, what order was he supposed to put these on again?

Prompto groaned as he turned the vest back and forth. Both sides of the weighted cloth looked like the front but neither felt right. One side caused the fabric to hang too low while the other looked like it was riding up too much. Was he supposed to put the vest on first or that weird bib thing? Did it even matter?

Prompto was just wondering if he could get away with throwing it all out the window when the door opened and Nyx appeared. He took one glance at him, smiled, and said, "Need a hand?"

He offered him an awkward smile. "Please?"

Nyx picked up the white shirt he'd carefully laid across his bed and handed it to him. It was soft yet stiff at the collar and it reminded him of his old turtleneck jumpers. Thankfully Nyx helped him with the tie, looping it under the collar flaps and fastening it neatly against his chest. It usually took Prompto a few attempts before he could tie one decently. 

It was only as he was pulling on the vest that Prompto realised the problem.

"Dude, is it supposed to feel like this?" Prompto said. His chest felt tight and his arms, squashed. Prompto had never worn a corset but he imagined it felt similar. Almost like the cloth was glued to his skin. The extra layers just made things worse. Considering how it was nearly winter, the sun was still out in force. He pulled at his collar. "I think I'll hyperventilate if I have to wear this for more than five minutes.”

"It will loosen up as you wear it more," Nyx assured him. 

Prompto doubted that but okay.

Nyx placed a black coat on his shoulders and he threaded his arms through the sleeves before gesturing to the mirror.

“It fits you well,” Nyx said and he sounded like he meant it but one glance at the mirror made him doubt. It didn't look bad or anything but it was just so... different to what he usually wore. Even his usual uniform, which was also fancy as hell, didn't look quite so extravagant. The uniform was similar to that of the Kingsglaive - long jacket which went down to the knees and silver buttons. However, the collar was lower and the tie was clearly visible beneath. Prompto pulled at his sleeves but that only made his chest feel even tighter. He frowned, silently hoping this wouldn't become a problem.

“Do we have to wear these often?” Prompto asked.

“No. Only a couple of times a year."

“Thank the six,” Prompto muttered, pulling at his collar to give himself some breathing room.

Nyx gestured to the chair. "Put your stuff there. Eat something tomorrow before you put it back on again; you can imagine what Captain will be like if you stain it."

"Don't need to tell me twice," Prompto said as he yanked the jacket by the sleeve. The relief was instantaneous as it slid off his body and he immediately began working on the shirt. "Thanks for this, by the way."

Nyx waved his hand dismissively, the slightest of smiles on his lips. "Don't worry about it. You're not the first one I've helped."

It was always a relief to hear that he wasn't the only one who did things wrong, though he doubted many servants had quite the disaster story he did.

"You know Libertus and I aren't going to be at breakfast today, right?" Nyx said casually as Prompto placed his things on the wood. He nodded. Drautos had told him that yesterday; the Festival was apparently demanding all-hands-on-deck.

"You think you'll be able to handle the royals?"

Days ago, maybe not. Gladio's death stares alone would have been enough to slaughter him where he stood. However, recently that had all changed and he didn't exactly get why. Gladio no longer glared at him quite so much, and Ignis and Noctis seemed happy enough to just leave him to work, as they had done before.

It was great but a small part of his brain couldn't help questioning it. 

"…I'll be fine," Prompto said after a little while. "It's not like they are difficult to serve anyway."

Nope, not at all.

* * *

 

Ever since Prompto learned the prince was an avid comic book fan, the wave of anxiety he used to feel when he saw Noctis slowly began to dwindle away, helped by his many other mannerisms. While the prince did give off a royal air in his posture and the way he spoke, his behaviour made him seem grounded - almost common - which made him a far more comforting presence than Ignis. While Gladio's disdain for him now simmered, unapparent to all but himself, Noctis acted like he was almost indifferent to him now. 

It was funny. The one who could ruin him the quickest now scared him the least. The thought occurred to him as he presented the prince with a tray overflowing with crackers and bread during breakfast. The prince sat tall and proud in his seat, yet he wore a band shirt for the group  _Firefly._ It was the little things.

It was just the Prince and King today, which was apparently an extremely rare occurrence. The King was usually the first to be missing and there were always others around whenever he was present. And Prompto was here alone. No pressure there.

And Prompto was here alone, serving the two most important figures in the country. No pressure there.

Well, he was alone except for the Crownsguard at the door. 

It struck him as a little odd but they both sat at opposite ends of the table, separated by a long stretch of polished wood. The distance was so far that they had to speak up to be heard and the silences felt especially heavy. He didn't understand if it was some custom to sit so far apart or a conscious choice but it made managing them both a task. It also gave him a rather unkind reminder of life back home, except the table here was way more expensive. 

For awhile, they ate in silence, the only sound the clatter of bowls and glasses. When the silence did break, it was the King who spoke. "Gladiolus mentioned you were working on your shooting the other day," he said. 

"Yeah," Noctis said, his gaze fixated on the bowl before him. "Cor said I was slacking off. Gladio helped out."

"Not Ignis?"

"He was looking into the festival preparations."

The King nodded. "I hear he's going forward with preparing something for the festivities. That's good to hear."

Noctis hummed, twirling a spoon around his bowl of cereal.

The King watched Noctis with a look Prompto couldn't quite place. Concern, maybe? Unsettlement? He watched him for a long while. Noctis didn't seem to notice. Then the King placed his cutlery down with a quiet clack. "Your tutors tell me you’ve been distracted as of late.”

Noctis hummed again, still watching his bowl with rapt interest, “Well, I can't think why.”

“So, nothing’s concerning you?”

"Nothing's concerning me," Noctis agreed. "No need to worry."

Prompto didn't think reading people was one of his strong suits. However, one glance at the King's creased brows and thin lips and he felt like he didn’t need to be able to read people well to understand what he was thinking. 

The King drummed his fingers across his knees, hidden beneath the tablecloth to all but him before suddenly the movement stopped.

"I don't wish to pry into your business, my son, but may I ask you a question?"

Noctis stopped stirring his cereal, "…go for it."

The King pursed his lips, silent for a moment. Noctis finally looked up with an arched brow. That's when the King spoke again, voice just loud enough to carry over. "Has something occurred between you and Gladiolus?"

Noctis noticeably stilled. His face was a measured cool but Prompto thought the sudden attention made him seem anything but. “What do you mean?”

“Cor mentioned that Gladiolus has also been oddly distracted during training. I was wondering if there was a connection.”

Noctis gave Prompto a quick glance, face inexpressive except for those eyes. Those eyes said everything, even though they gave away nothing. Prompto immediately looked down at his hands and shifted uncomfortably on the spot, feeling guilty even though he knew he really shouldn't. 

Noctis, however, quickly snapped his attention back to his father. "Gladio and I argued. We’ve fixed things now.” 

Prompto blinked, taken aback by how truthful he sounded. It both took a weight off his shoulders and made him feel oddly jittery. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to fidget, discreetly slapping his own hand.

The King frowned in thought, “He has seemed happier recently.”

The prince nodded. "We smoothed things over."

“I see," the King said, lining up his cutlery at the edge of his plate. It was difficult to tell what he thought about that explanation. He looked neither happy or sad. Only thoughtful. Eventually, he asked, "Is that all?” 

“Should there be anything else?” Noctis said.

The King stared at him and the prince stared straight back, both of them unexpressive. It was like they were trapped in a silent duel Prompto had no access to. He couldn't tell if it was just him, or if the room was getting uncomfortably warm, but he ignored the voice in his head which told him not to fidget and he began to play with the end of his sleeve. 

Finally, the King pressed back into his seat, silently ceding. "Alright."

Noctis copied the action, picking up his spoon again.

"Prompto," the King called. Prompto jolted, heart leaping in his chest. Noctis turned to watch him, face calm but his blue eyes revealing his own surprise.

"Y… yes, your Majesty?" he said, coughing to clear his throat. He stepped closer to the table, ready for orders. 

"I understand you are working alone today."

"Uh… yes, I am," Prompto said, "Nyx and Libertus are working on things for the Festival…" Surely the King must know that, though. Then again, maybe not. He must have a lot to keep track on.

The King frowned. "Then, I feel I should apologise for the general inconvenience. I imagine it's a lot of work to do alone."

"Not at all, your Majesty," Prompto said, his leaping heart slowly easing down to normal. "I should imagine it's nothing next to what you go through every day."

The King's mouth quirked so slightly at the sides that it was almost obscured by his beard. The action helped with his nerves, just a little. "There may be some truth in that. Still. it would not do to be discourteous."

The King reached down beside his chair and picked up his stick from the floor and used it to hobble out of his chair. Prompto took a step forward to help but the King waved him away and he slowly but surely managed to get onto two feet. It wasn't fast at any rate, but Prompto felt like he understood why the King wanted to do it alone. 

"I have asked her Lady Francesca of Alkyrie to visit for the festivities," the King said, turning towards the door.

There was an audible clang and Prompto looked to find Noctis had dropped his spoon into his leftover milk. "… oh?” Noctis said, audible hesitation in his voice. That alone surprised Prompto more than anything he’d seen all dinner.

"I've heard she's grown quite grand these last few years. Though I know it must be hard giving your previous difficulties, can I trust you to entertain her during her stay?”

Noctis didn’t speak, merely hummed, which was apparently answer enough because the King gestured to the door and the guard let him out. 

After the King was gone, Noctis sat back in his chair and stared at the milk in his bowl. Soon, the only sound became his breathing and it was as uncomfortable as it sounded. 

 

* * *

 

"My old man… he's asked the Countess of Alkyrie to visit during the Harvest Celebrations," Noctis said, tossing an apple into the air. It made a satisfying crack in his hand as it landed. He threw it up again.

"The Lady Francesca?" Ignis hummed, raising his head from a pile of cookbooks.

Noctis nodded, throwing the apple with a little more spin. 

"Well, she's not sixty years old, at least," Gladio said. He was leaning against the door, as he’d often taken to after Prompto had walked in on them. "It's an improvement."

"And I believe you had quite the crush on her in your youth," Ignis said.

 "Yeah,” he muttered, “wonder why that ended.” Ignis didn't reply right away so Noctis began throwing the apple higher. He channelled every emotion through it, as messy as his feelings were, and tried his best to just think.

The Lady Francesca? His dad must really be getting desperate. Never in his life had he met a more condescending, spoilt, bratty little--

"Highness, she's likely different from her younger self," Ignis said slowly. "It's unfair to judge her on actions she made as a child."

"I know that," Noctis frowned hard. He did agree with Ignis but... the past was sometimes hard to forget and it was especially hard to forget about the Lady Francesca. "She's probably changed, she's got more status now, she probably went to see a therapist. Yeah, I know."

It came out harsher than he would have liked. Ignis noticeably faltered, turning his gaze back to his desk, Well, shit. He ran a hand through his dark strands and took a deep breath. "…Sorry. I didn't mean to be sour."

He shouldn't take his shitty situation out on anyone, especially not these two. They were pretty much the only people who kept him sane at this point. He tossed the apple up once more, channelling every emotion through it (as messy as his feelings were) and tried his best to just think. Well, there was no changing things now. What was the point in worrying about it?

"It's quite alright, your highness," Ignis said softly, offering a small smile. 

The mattress suddenly dipped and a tattooed arm wrapped itself around his weight. He leaned into his space, resting his head against Gladio's shoulder in turn, snuggling into the crook of his neck. Ignis' shoulders were pretty bony and uncomfortable to lie on but Gladio's excessive muscle training made his arms feel like glorified cushions.

"So… anyone got a plan on how I'm going to survive this?"

"I'm afraid I've got no plan beyond you talking to her and hoping you get along," Ignis said. Noctis fought down the swell of disappointment in his chest. It was always a sad day when Ignis couldn't think of a better plan than he could. 

Gladio grinned wide. "You could always throw coffee at her if all else fails."

Noctis snorted. Ignis glared at him.

“And,” Gladio continued, “it’s not like you’ve never done this before. You’ll survive.”

That was true. Noctis had met many women in his father’s attempts to find him a wife. He’d met the pretty, the kind and the honest whom he turned down because it felt unfair to pretend to love them. He’d met the liars, the cheats and the power-hungry whom he’d turned down because they were unfit. He’d met many people, turned down many people.

He could meet Francesca if he had to.

“You’re right,” Noctis said. “For once.”

Gladio grunted, “Don’t think just because your pouting that I won’t kick your ass.”

Noctis smirked as he turned to look over at Ignis, who was studying them carefully from his chair. “Are you going to make those pastries for the festival, Iggy?”

“I wasn’t planning to. Why, do you want them?”

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “They might just help me get through the evening.” They'd made it less painful, anyway. 

“Very well, Noct. If they will help.”

Noctis smiled and nestled his head deeper in the crook of Gladio's neck. He grunted but didn't complain so he closed his eyes and let himself dream. 

* * *

 

Prompto was, generally, a pretty light sleeper. He could get to sleep quickly enough but he woke up just as easily. Something as small as footsteps outside his door could wake him. As such, he rarely slept through the night. It was even worse when he felt excited because then he couldn't even make himself fall asleep in the first place. It was a bit of a nightmare. 

Yet by some miracle, Prompto managed to get to sleep the night before the festival and he slept for quite a long time too. That was right up until there was a loud crash and Prompto jolted upright, thoughts immediately going to _'Is someone breaking in?_ ' before realising that he was in the Citadel now and a person didn't just break into the Citadel, especially when the security was this high because of the tensions with Niflheim. 

It was dark inside his room but he was sure nothing on the shelves had fallen and broken. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and twisted in his bed before patting blindly at his clock until the light turned on.

3:56am

Ughh.

There was more clashing and clanging outside his room, erasing all thoughts of it coming from inside his room, but the noise was much quieter now. Like it was coming from a good distance away, like the kitchen or something. 

But surely it was still too early to start making food yet. He blindly grabbed the t-shirt and sweats he'd strewn across the chair (atop the uniform from hell) mindful of the still sleeping Nyx. To his credit, he hadn't so much as shifted at the noise and continued to snore.

Man did he make weird snoring sounds.

It was probably someone scavenging for a night time snack, Prompto thought as he fought himself out of the bed. Prompto did that sometimes. Still, the noise had made him curious and he could always do with another glass of water. 

The moment he took a step outside his room it hit him. Something smelled gorgeous – some mixture of banana and honey, he thought, though he never was the best at telling one smell from the other. He thought that it must be Crowe then and he silently congratulated her for being able to work so early. He inhaled again, relishing in the scent. She must be really outdoing herself because although she was a good cook, nothing she'd made before had smelt this good.

Prompto headed down the hall to the kitchen and opened the door, words already formed on his tongue, "Whatever you're making Crowe, it smells grea—ahhh!"

He fell back against the door, hand to his chest.

Ignis – prim, composed, Ignis whom he had not said a word to since that night – jolted with him and his baking tray shuddered in his grip. He somehow managed to keep hold of it long enough to slam it onto the counter. Prompto was so stunned he almost didn't register the fact Ignis was actually talking to him.

"I'd thank you not to sneak up on me, Prompto," Ignis said tersely. "And not to yell the rest of the staff awake."

"You… what…?" _What are you doing here?_

Ignis wasn't supposed to come down here. None of the other nobles did and he hadn't been down here before now.

Ignis ran a hand slowly through his hair, smoothing out some of the poking strands. "I was using the kitchen facilities if that's quite alright with you," he said the last bit with no small amount of irritation. "Now, what are you doing here?"

"What am I...? I live down here... uh, sir," God, he really needed to get used to adding the 'sir' or he'd be fired and he'd only have himself to blame. Ignis just stared at him. Prompto swallowed thickly, trying to force his anxiety back down into his stomach. "I heard rattling in the kitchen. Thought it was the chef, Crowe. I'm sorry for disturbing you, sir."

"It's fine," Ignis said though from the way he was saying things felt decidedly not fine. "Sorry for disturbing your rest."

Prompto shifted. "Uh… it's alright, sir. Don't worry about it."

If there was only one good thing which came out of this past week and a half, it was that Prompto was much better at handling awkward situations. The trick was just to keep talking; before the awkward had a chance to stick. Prompto didn't know if he could just excuse himself without Ignis dismissing him anyway, so talking it was. 

"Um… could I ask what you're making?" Prompto said, cringing at his own stiffness. 

Ignis removed the gloves from his hands and placed them on the counter. For a moment, he thought that Ignis wasn't going to say anything and just make this even more awkward on himself. However, finally, an answer came. "I don't know the name of the dish. It's an Altissian delicacy, in part, or it's an attempted replication of one. I'm making it for the festivities."

"That's cool," Prompto said. It genuinely was – he didn't even know nobles knew how to cook - but he didn't feel like it really came across in his tone. He added, "it smells amazing!"

"Thank you," Ignis said, mouth long and thin. Prompto mused that the slight smile he'd received during his interview might be the only smile he'd ever get from him. "That's good to hear."

Silence passed over them again. Prompto floundered for another topic.

"Uh… when did you learn to cook?"

"When I became the prince's advisor," Ignis said simply. "At the age of nine."

"That's pretty young," Prompto said, surprised. He'd barely been able to work in his father's bakery at thirteen, never mind advise the future of the country at under ten.

Ignis bowed his head slightly. "Well, he was about six at the time. Due to his accident, I barely saw him for some time and when he returned I largely just advised him not to jump out of windows."

Ah, the accident. There wasn't a person in Lucis who hadn't heard of the prince's near-fatal encounter with a demon. Still, Ignis knew the prince even back then? Sheesh, that felt like a lifetime ago. Even though he was a little curious, he didn't want to annoy Ignis more by asking questions about that. So instead, he forced a grin and said,  "He needed an advisor to tell him that?"

"He needed the entire Crownguard to tell him that."

Prompto laughed – loud in his discomfort. Ignis said nothing and the silence hung again. Maybe he really should just ask to leave? Or maybe he should make a run for the door? Both sounded equally terrifying so he did neither.

Then Ignis gave him the weirdest look. His eyebrows were creased low on his forehead and his mouth dipped very slightly into a frown. It could mean many different emotions. Finally, voice low and steady with hidden intent, Ignis said, "I feel you are deserving of an apology."

Prompto blinked agonisingly slowly. "…Sorry, sir?" His first thought was that he'd misheard or somehow misunderstood. 

"An apology. For the behaviour my… partners… and I have shown you during your time here."

Yep, that definitely was an apology. But Ignis, apologising? To _him_. Prompto didn't even know he was capable of apologising, he was so proper and noble.

Something must have shown on his face because Ignis continued, "We have placed a burden on you that you did not deserve. I cannot retract that knowledge from you and I apologise for it, as well as our repugnant behaviour thus far." Prompto gaped. He opened his mouth and then closed it and Ignis continued on. "We have discussed this matter extensively between ourselves and his Highness has vouched for your word. So, I'll respect his choice and, in turn, give you my faith. Gladiolus shall do the same."

Silence. Prompto let the words float there for a moment, not really sure what to do with them. It was a lot to take in, yeah, but they were also sort of relieving to hear. Like someone removing a heavy bag from his back.

Yet, one look at the pinched look on Ignis' face made something cold in him and he realized that this wasn't trust. Ignis didn't trust him any more than he trusted Ignis. It was more… resignation? An attempt to try. Well, this explained why Gladio wasn't glaring at him anymore too. They were trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

"Thank you, sir," Prompto said, "and I hope I'll be worthy of it."

Ignis nodded. "As do I. Now, I have preparations to complete."

"Ah," Prompto said, snapped free from his whirling emotions. "Alright, sir! Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Prompto."

He turned and went for the door, relishing in the feeling of the cold metal handle in his grip. He turned, offered Ignis one final nod, before finally exiting into the shadows of the hall and heading for his room.

It wasn't much but this was a good step forward. He could work with this. Ignis may not trust him but the chance was enough.

Prompto wanted to prove to them all that he could be trusted. He didn't want to be a disappointment and he definately didn't want to cause anyone - even these people who'd had no qualms about doing it to him - unnecessary grief. 

He closed his door with all the delicacy he could muster, mindful of the still sleeping Nyx. He thought he heard footsteps outside his door, continuing down into men's quarters, but he quickly dismissed it as paranoia from his tired mind.

He settled into bed, pulled up the blanket to his chest and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Banners of orange spilled across the elaborate ceilings and white lilies bloomed within their pots. The lighting had been cast low, bathing the halls in amber. Everything from the main hall to the servants' quarters was elaborately decorated with banners, maroon carpets and neat little decorations made from autumn leaves. 

It was like nothing Prompto had ever seen back home.

It was awesome.

"Blondie, give this to Nyx in the main dining hall," Aranea said, handing him a cool looking table piece with branches and lights hanging off every end, "and put this," a champagne bottle, "in the foyer. Come back as soon as you're done."

"Will do," Prompto grinned, racing up the steps.

Walking through the rooms of the Citadel was like walking through history. Prompto had never seen so many expensive things in one room before. There were jewels and bracelets and dresses which glittered as they moved. It was like watching a ball from an old Disney movie, what with the enchanted chandeliers and the classical music. 

Even his uniform (which tightened around his throat in a way which could only mean it was expensive) looked cheap in comparison. 

He carefully moved through the rooms, narrowly avoiding toes and dress ends, and was extra careful as he gave Nyx the ornament. He took it off him wordlessly, nodding his thanks before he returned his attention to the table.

He passed three old women talking about some Sir Benedict as he left (' _you know why he's definitely sleeping with her ladyship. She's wasn't even pretty at twenty_ ') and glided through the halls until he reached the foyer.

The foyer was huge, with twin elevators at the end of the hall and tall glass walls by the entrance. How Prompto had missed that when he first got here was beyond him – nerves maybe. Even this room was packed. He spotted Libertus in the corner, opening the door sporadically to let guests in. Prompto tried to catch his attention with a smile but he must have missed it because he simply stared straight back.

It took a moment to find the table. There were so many people around, it was hard to even see the floor, but he eventually found it nestled against the far wall. Trying his best not to shove past anyone, Prompto made a dive for it and carefully laid the wine upon the table, next to some interesting looking pastries.

It was then that he realised those pastries were the same shape as the things Ignis had been pulling out of the oven that morning. He considered them for a moment, taking in that gorgeous sweet smell before he grinned to himself.

So, he hadn’t dreamed it after all.

That was a relief. 

* * *

 

Nyx owed him a crown.

That’s what the currency was in Insomnia, right? Crowns? Not gil, like back home.

Well, Nyx owed him a crown.

Prompto hooked his finger under his collar and pulled it forward, taking in a deep breath. His skin felt damp and his clothes clung to him like they'd been glued. Prompto didn’t know it was possible to feel claustrophobic in your own clothes but here he was – hot and suffocating.

 _“It will loosen up as you wear it more,”_ he’d said. _“It fits you well,”_ he’d said.

Well, he felt like he was dying.

The dancing had begun an hour or so back; the lighting of the chandeliers replaced with glowing lanterns. It was pretty. It reminded him of Halloween.

But the dancing and people had made the room stuffy and he couldn’t deal with stuffy. It was hard to not be hyperaware of the people brushing by him, close enough to touch. A stray thought of having a panic attack in the middle of all these people entered his mind and it quickly stuck, digging itself deep into his head. He clenched his shaking hands into fists.

He needed to get out of here. He needed to go _now._

Surely they wouldn’t mind if he took five minutes to collect himself, right? The party was winding down and he was just standing around. Nyx was there too. He could manage everything. 

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a bad idea.

Then again, what would be worse? Panic attack or brief disappearance?

He pushed through the endless crowds, careful not to shove, and made a beeline for the door. The Citadel hallway's lack of massive crowding was already an improvement but he just needed to take his damned jacket off for a minute. He couldn’t do that here.

Prompto glanced around at the multiple doors before finally deciding to go down another hall. And another. And another. Nyx had finally gotten around to giving him that tour but even though these halls felt familiar, he couldn't remember the way forward anymore. He supposed he could memorise the way back. His memory was pretty good. 

So, he went down another hall until he reached one that was almost completely empty. A maid passed him at the door as he entered but there were no guests this far from the main halls. It would do.

Prompto leaned against the wall and focussed his attention on breathing. In and Out. In and Out. He held his breath for four seconds before letting go. He fiddled with the collar, slackening the tie and stripping away his jacket. It felt like someone had removed a rope from around his lungs. The relief was instant and fresh and the buzzing feeling in his head quickly began to wane.

Maybe he could get away with an unbuttoned jacket? He’d have to talk to Nyx about how long it would take to loosen up.

He stood there, alone, for a few minutes just breathing in and out. He'd have to wear the buttoned jacket again for a bit but the break had brought him enough peace to manage it. Or at least, he thought it had given him enough peace. He threw the jacket back onto his shoulders and buttoned it up, already uncomfortable with how constricting the cloth felt, when there was a sudden loud creak. 

Prompto glanced up and found one of the doors had fallen open and at the bottom, on their hands and knees, was a man. A man with black hair who stared at him with wide blue eyes; dressed in a disheveled suit. Who the person was didn't strike him immediately (he looked quite different to normal) but when it hit him, it hit hard. 

Prince Noctis. 

He jumped before he stiffened up. He was just about to start picking the words to say - excuses, apologises, questions - when he noticed it. 

The door Noctis was coming out of had the words ‘Cleaning Supplies’ stamped across the top in large black letters. He stared up at the words, reading them again to make sure he hadn’t misread them or something, before glancing back down at the prince.

The prince wasn’t blushing, per say, but his face had awkwardly contorted. His eyes had drifted away from him, fixing themselves on something next to his head. 

While Prompto was not opposed to the idea of nobility attempting to clean, he doubted that was what was going on here. “Um… are you alright, Prince Noctis?” he dared to ask, pushing himself away from the wall to draw closer.

Noctis gave him the most incredulous look. "Just peachy."

Well, someone was cranking up the sarcasm, but Prompto was honestly too confused to take it to heart. "Why are you hiding in the closet?" he asked. 

"That's none of your business,” Noctis said. Well, he had a point, but this was really just too bizarre not to ask questions. 

Prompto rubbed the back of his head.  "Is there anything I can do to help or…?"

"You could not mention this. To anyone."

Like anyone would believe him anyway. He wasn’t exactly sure he believed it himself. It was like something from one of his weird dreams.

Then, someone called, "Your Highness!" Prompto turned to look down the hall and noticed a silhouette through the door glass. The voice was a woman's but he'd never heard it before. A guest perhaps?

"Shit," Noctis hissed. He glanced around frantically; at the door, the floor and then, finally, at Prompto. Something flashed in his gaze, like a lightbulb, and he said, "Get in here."

Prompto stared at him, mouth slightly slack. "What?"

"Prince Noctis, are you in here?"

Prompto had just enough time to raise a curious brow before Noctis wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled, yanking him inside. He barely had enough time to yelp before he was released and he fell sprawled among the mops and buckets. Pain echoed up his arm and he groaned. 

“Dude, what—”

“Shut it!” Noctis said as he slammed the door closed. 

It was cold in the closet and it was almost impossible to see. However, he could tell from the moment he dragged himself to his knees that the space was way too tiny for comfort. Heels echoed down the hall – click, clack, click, clack - and Prompto held his breath even though he didn’t understand the need for secrecy.

Then, the sound grew distant. There was a sound of a door opening and closing and the sound died altogether.

There was a heavy breath from the prince’s direction but all Prompto could see was his silhouette.

"I think she's gone," Noctis said, voice hushed. "You good?"

Prompto hummed, rubbing at his now aching arm and just knew that it was going to be a nightmare when it bruised. “Been better,” he replied, wiping the dust off his clothes. “Could have given me a bit of warning there.”

“Well, she was just about to walk in,” Noctis said. “I didn't exactly have the time.”

“She?” Prompto raised a brow even though he knew the prince couldn’t see it.

“The Countess of Alkyrie.”

Oh, her. The woman whose mere name seemed to put the prince in a sour mood. The King's whole ‘put her past actions behind you’ spiel had been interesting enough to stick.

"Ah," Prompto said, accidentally hitting the wall with his elbow. He tried to move away but only wound up hitting the other wall. He swallowed, fighting down the clawing feeling building up in his gut.  _'Don't think about it,'_ he told himself. 

“Yeah,” Noctis said, oblivious to his anxiety. 

“So... you were hiding from her?” 

“Pretty much.”

“Um… okay…” Prompto wanted to ask, he really did, but the closeness of the walls and the heat of his outfit were quickly getting to him and it wasn't pretty. The nerves which had faded away in the hall were coming back in force and he silently tried to force down panic. “So, uh… can I go back out now, your highness?

Noctis didn't answer right away and those seconds of silence felt like years. When he did, his voice was calm. Determined. “Sure, but could you do me a favour and not to mention this to anyone. Please?”

Prompto was beginning to think he’d applied for the wrong job. He really should have become a secret keeper or something. He was really starting to build up a record.

“Yeah… um… I’ll add it to the list.”

Noctis didn’t reply to that but moments later there was a shuffle across the carpet and a shaking of wood. However, there was no sudden stream of light a second later as expected. Instead, the room remained covered in a blanket of darkness. 

“Is everything okay, your highness?” Prompto asked, pulling at his collar to give him space to breathe. 

“Fine," came the terse reply. 

The wood shook again. Still no light. He swallowed thickly again. 

“It’s stuck,” Noctis said, clearly annoyed. 

“…What?” Prompto said, stomach plummeting to his feet.

 _Breathe_ , he told himself, pulling off his tie. _Just breathe._

He wasn’t going to panic.

“Why don’t we both try pushing it?” Prompto suggested, already crawling forward. Noctis hummed in what sounded like approval. He accidentally kicked the prince in the shin as he made his way to the door but panic forced down all thoughts of apology.

“Okay, you ready?” Prompto asked.

“Yeah," Noctis said, his voice much louder now that they were close. Prompto could just about make out the lines of his hair. "Alright shove it on three. One... two... three!” They both shoved into the door and nothing gave. They shoved again, nothing gave.

“Fuck!” Noctis hissed after the third attempt. “I think the wood’s jammed.”

It couldn’t be jammed. He couldn’t be stuck in this dark, cramped space with the prince of Lucis. He had to go back to work! He had to get out of here.

“Well, we can unjam it right?” Prompto said, voice strangely high. “We could call someone!”

“Uh, party guests aren’t allowed phones. It’s bad manners. Why, do you have a phone?”

No, he didn’t. He knew he didn’t. He was always terrified of it going off so he always left it in his room. What a stupid thing to do. 

“No, I—No, I don’t.”

There was a momentary pause but when Noctis spoke again, his voice was soft. Almost comforting. It didn't help. “Hayy, are you okay?"

No. No, he was not okay. He really was not okay. He needed to leave. He couldn’t breathe in here; everything was too stuffy and dark and cramped. He pushed a pile of poles to the side to make some space but the panic was already there, and bright.

“I need to get out,” Prompto said, breathing stilted and shuddering. “I need to get out right now.”


End file.
